


fifteen

by emi_lyliz



Series: Wayward [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, and I couldn't come up with a way to delete him that didn't feel forced, as in pre-actual canon s15, bc I will gladly eliminate his ass, because I think he was in canon like already, but if he actually wasn't there already and I'm just stupid lmk, john winchester oppression club I'm just not smart, uhhhh so john's in heaven?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 39,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emi_lyliz/pseuds/emi_lyliz
Summary: Several characters face the (very severe) consequences of their actions in the third and final installment ofWayward.
Series: Wayward [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/994791





	1. I Take My Miracles Where I Can Get Them

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit.  
> So I noted this in the series notes, but I'll repeat myself. Two years ago, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to reconceive Supernatural's thirteenth season, and, thus, _thirteen_ was born. I didn't even originally intend to write _fourteen_ when I did, and after it happened it was 100% supposed to be the end.  
> However.  
> I decided I wasn't fully satisfied with how I ended things. It's 2020, so lockdown gave me a lot of free time; I used that to make _fifteen_.  
> Like _fourteen_ , I pulled chapter titles from quotes. However, I changed it up a little this time, so instead of all of them being from previous Supernatural seasons, they're each from a different TV show. I'll add where each quote comes from to the chapter notes if anyone's dying to know.  
> New chapter every Monday and Friday unless something comes up. Enjoy.
> 
> Chapter one's title comes from the show White Collar.

If one would have asked the archangel Gabriel in the moment to explain why he was now here, in a small northern Missouri town (and, notably, in what appeared to be a barren wasteland of its former self) both completely isolated yet palpably in company (alive, mind you—that’s jarring enough in its own right), he wouldn’t have felt exceptionally confident explaining how he’d gotten there—or why, or when, or whatever else one might ask to know.

It was a wild ride; that’s what he knew and that’s all he cared to know. He felt like he had been ejected, but he couldn’t quite articulate from where. Maybe ejected wasn’t even the best word; perhaps _extracted_ or simply _transferred_. There was no feeling quite like it. The last thing he could remember was vastness—pure void. Before that, only that his brother had run him through. He knew he had died, so he couldn’t figure out why his circumstance had suddenly upended.

Still, he was prepared to make the absolute most of it. Isolation in quite literally the middle of nowhere had never been ideal; the opportunity to feel something again had been placed straight into his lap, and he’d be damned if he didn’t capitalize on that whether he understood it or not. He presumed to be alive again, but his surroundings were still so unlike what he had remembered life to be like that he wasn’t very confident on that call.

He took it upon himself to do some exploring. Was rural Missouri his first pick for where to spend his time? Not particularly. But he was going to indulge anyway; this was where he was, and it was sure as hell better than nothing. He breathed deeply, enamored by the feeling of fresh (if a bit… smoky) air in his vessel’s lungs. However, as he explored the town further, he was beginning to question whether he’d been reborn or if his afterlife had simply undergone a remodel.

There was no one.

He wandered for what would have felt like eons had he not just arrived from eternity alone in pure empty. In all the time he was there, he encountered exactly zero other life—not a human, not an angel, not a demon, not even so much as an insect. It was beyond him how he was so evidently still alone when he could swear he sensed a pulse in this place that didn’t exist when he was all to himself. He was near certain that energy was the mere existence of someone else, but he was drawing blanks trying to arrive at confirmation.

And yet, he was undeterred. He knew, viscerally, that he simply could not be by himself. He couldn’t bear another second of that; had he been moved somewhere that felt so alive (in spite of itself, really, as it all looked rather dead) only to find it was just as empty as the void, that would be entirely and cosmically unjust. And he believed deeply in justice, despite everything that had happened in his lifetime, so therefore he was unfalteringly sure he would encounter someone eventually. He had to.

Perhaps a rural Missourian ghost town just wasn’t the right place to go looking for signs of life. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t very likely he would be here himself had he not had it forced upon him. The chances someone would elect to be here given the choice to be just about anywhere else felt as remote as the place itself. Accordingly, he decided to go somewhere else, somewhere he always knew to be bustling: Las Vegas.

He discovered on arrival that either his memories were incredibly rose-tinted or something had gone apocalyptically wrong. As it happened, it was a matter of both.

His instinct had been right in that Vegas at least appeared superficially more alive. There were lights, there were intact buildings, there were trees with actual leaves. And yet still no one—at least not in ear- or eyeshot, which was not at all how he remembered the city. He was about to resign himself to a fate wholly worse than death when he was, at last, greeted by another being. An angel, as it was.

“Where did you come from?” asked the other angel, who inhabited a short blonde woman in a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. “Did Raphael send you?”

“Did—” he began, only to be cut off.

“Never mind, my clearance isn’t high enough. I’m just here to sweep up the anomalies,” she scoffed, smiling bemusedly. She looked him over. “Well, you’re definitely celestial. Guess that means you can get to Heaven.” She extended a hand, which he declined to take. “You can either come with me and do things peacefully, or I can send word to my superior and Heaven can fetch you personally. Their way is a lot less friendly than mine, I assure you. Bartholomew’s not exactly personable, but he gets the job done.”

“Bartholomew?"

“Yeah, you know the one.”

“Right,” Gabriel replied, though slightly lost. He _did_ know Bartholomew, but as he recalled that man was in no position to be giving orders. Still, he didn’t feel like his situation warranted a refusal to go to Heaven; at least there he would have more company than just this unfamiliar angel. He had engaged her only because he felt he wasn’t in a place to be picky. Now that he had options, he wanted to explore them, and so he took the hand she offered and said, “Let’s go, then.”

Her smile became less sardonic and more genuine at his compliance. “It’s Rachael, by the way,” she informed. “You seem a little disoriented. I guess Raphael didn’t tell you what to expect when you got over here.”

“Raph—”

“Sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting my place. I know you’re not supposed to discuss interdimensional affairs. It’s just that I’m so damn _curious_ , you know? I wouldn’t have been, but the second Bartholomew said it was confidential I felt like I just had to know. What is with that, huh? Why do we always want what we can’t have?”

“Rachael,” Gabriel breathed, though grateful for company regardless of how incessantly chatty. “Weren’t you supposed to take me to Heaven?”

“ _Oh_ , yeah, right. Distracted myself a little there. My apologies. I’ll get you straight to the king,” she said with a curt nod, reorienting herself. An instant later, they were up in Heaven (lord, how it had been renovated) and outside a large, looming double door. “Here’s where I leave you, then. No one’s allowed in headquarters without Bartholomew clearing it first, so if you would be kind enough to have a little patience while I notify him you’re here, it would be much appreciated.”

He nodded to her, and she vanished, presumably beyond the doors. For curiosity’s sake, he tried opening them, tugging on their brassy handles to no avail. He then attempted to push them, which also proved futile. Rachael hadn’t been exaggerating about confidentiality, it seemed.

A moment later, the doors opened themselves, revealing a large room donned in navy blue and silver. Gabriel was, again, taken by Heaven’s aesthetics. They weren’t as he’d remembered. A lot, it appeared, could change in… well, he wasn’t quite sure how long it had been. He readjusted his clothes and raised the angle of his chin slightly to give an air of dignity in spite of his maddening confusion and approached Rachael and who he presumed to be Bartholomew, stood together in the center of the room with matching stern but welcoming expressions.

“Rachael,” Bartholomew said coolly, though he kept his eyes fixated on Gabriel. His expression as he looked Gabriel over several times, though still inviting, was much colder and more distant than hers was, and he had his arms crossed.

Rachael nodded to Bartholomew, the quietest and most reserved Gabriel had seen her yet. She approached him with quick paces. She said nothing, but she briefly put her hand to Gabriel’s shoulder before she exited the room and let the double doors shut with a resounding, somewhat ominous thud behind her.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and waited for Bartholomew to engage him first. It wasn’t that he wanted to come off aloof—quite the opposite, really, given he still thirsted for interactions—but he felt out of his depth on this one. He didn’t know what it was Bartholomew expected him to know, and he didn’t know what Bartholomew might know, and, of course, he didn’t know what he didn’t know. There were simply too many variables for him to initiate anything.

Evidently, Bartholomew had a similar thought process, as a profound silence hung over them just an instant longer than comfortable before conversation was struck. “Rachael says Raphael sent you over.”

“I know she does.”

“We’ve been expecting word from him for awhile,” Bartholomew continued. His voice was almost threateningly calm. “It’s been over a _year_ now since he left us hanging—abandoning his kind, his home. And for what? His nephew?”

“I can’t comment on—”

“When he left, we all assumed it’d be temporary. He _said_ it’d be temporary.”

“People say a lot of things.”

“You think you’re cute. Is that why you’re here instead of him, then? He thinks you can charm him out of explaining himself?”

“I don’t know what Raphael thinks, Bart. Never really have.” Gabriel could sense Bartholomew’s frustrations mounting, but he continued to prod because, frankly, the angrier Bartholomew became the more he seemed to exposit, and Gabriel was in the market for an explanation. Not that any of what he was saying was computing.

Bartholomew sighed and snarled a bit before returning himself to his default, pristine composure. “All we ever asked for was his cooperation. We were under the impression he’d be more hands-on than he has been. None of us left in Heaven were prepared to have to take over for him. Hell, _he_ had just taken over himself—for Castiel~. Who _just_ took over for Michael. Too many regime changes recently, and somehow the one that sticks is this. Why do you think that is?”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“I’ll admit things started a little rocky. The desperation to hear from our leader was increasing exponentially; it felt like a cheaper, more abrupt version of what Father did to us. No one was set to go through that again—especially not after all the instability we’d had. But we got the ship back on course through open dialogue, through patience, through cooperative leadership. _I_ guided us to where we are, not Raphael.”

“Congratulations,” Gabriel replied with a somewhat mocking grin. “I’m sorry, but I forgot to bring you your medal.”

“Whatever it is Raphael sent you for, we don’t want to hear it. Not anymore. We’re _finally_ getting Heaven—the _world_ —back on track. We don’t need him reinserting himself into our affairs just when things are starting to even out. It’ll throw us out of balance. Again.”

“I agree.”

“And yet, here you are—his mouthpiece. A lousy one at that.”

“I’d be offended, but I’m not here for Raphael,” Gabriel informed at last, tired of hearing Bartholomew boast about his undoubtedly divine command of Heaven.

Bartholomew adjusted himself. His eyes were still narrow as he looked to Gabriel, though now confusedly rather than antagonistically. “Come again?”

“You people sure love running your mouths, huh?” Gabriel scoffed playfully. “If you had let me speak, it would have saved you some effort.”

“I’m letting you speak now, and all you have to offer is belittlement.”

“Touché,” Gabriel conceded. He shifted his weight to his right foot and arched an eyebrow. “My name is Gabriel.”

“The archangel,” Bartholomew said, pursing his lips. “Then I must have gotten one thing right, yes? You have to be from where Raphael is; our Gabriel isn’t reachable.”

“I want to agree, but I don’t quite catch what you’re getting at.”

Bartholomew’s expression was growing more confused with each passing sentence. “What is there not to get? There’s two known dimensions, and the Gabriel we had is no longer with us. He hasn’t been for years. Moreover, I’d be interested to know how you got to our universe without knowing you’d left your own.”

Gabriel took a deep breath, trying to piece things together quickly enough to be able to get himself on Bartholomew’s page. “Sure, yeah. I follow you, I do. But the problem is that _I_ died too. I’m dead. Was dead. I know what’s going on about as well as you do, Bart.”

“You mean to tell me that you, an archangel, were slain.”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“Living.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not possible, Gabriel.”

“When you come up with something better, we’ll go with your version then, yeah? I don’t know what to tell you. I stupidly decided to be heroic or whatever and give those damn Winchesters a leg-up on my asshat older brother. And the bastard killed me. He used an archangel blade. Trust me, I know. I was there.”

“Who?”

“Lucifer.”

“No, before that part. You died in service of—”

“Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Bartholomew was, for the first time since he’d started talking, speechless.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Helping the Winchesters—it’s a death sentence. What can I say, Bart? I was over Luci’s shit enough that I made a dumb decision. Happens to the best of us.”

Bartholomew looked more pensive than agitated now, piecing the story together. Looking as if he’d had an epiphany, he stared Gabriel directly in the eyes now. “I understand. Some of it, at the least.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “You mention the Winchesters, so you must be from across the gate. We didn’t allow them to be born over here. And, coincidentally, you died as well—just like our own Gabriel.”

“And now I’m here? Why?”

“That part I haven’t yet worked out,” Bartholomew admitted, somewhat solemn. He shrugged. “But it couldn’t hurt to keep you here until we do. It’s not every day an angel—an archangel, at that—lives to tell how he died. In fact, I don’t think we’ve _ever_ heard such a thing.”

“I never did like to play by the rules,” Gabriel joked.

“If you’re here, then perhaps we can reach Michael—bring back our true leader. Castiel~ had no right to—”

“I meant to ask,” Gabriel interjected. “You people let _Castiel_ take over?”

“Ours, not yours. Yours took ours out of play."

“Sorry I missed it.”

“You’ve missed a lot, Gabriel.”


	2. No Rational Person Would Do as You Have Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two's title is pulled from Breaking Bad.

For the most part, following Farrah’s sacrifice and Raphael’s death, things had been peaceful at the bunker in Lebanon. Granted, _peaceful_ was a relative term for the Winchesters and their immediate circle. They still dealt with some small-time prey, but nothing to the scale they’d grown accustomed over the last decade, give or take.

Adam had stuck around. At first, it was less because he wanted to and more because he hadn’t really anywhere better to be. It had been, after all, nearly ten years since he’d gone to Hell. The world had moved on. Now, however, he was more adjusted. He very rarely took on a completely active role hunting, but he’d consistently hang back and lend a hand on research if one of the others happened to hit a snag. Still, it was a bit difficult for him to just forgive and forget. While he wasn’t antagonistic, he was notably detached. It was about as close as he’d realistically be able to get with everyone under the circumstances, so no one ever called him on it.

Elizabeth and Castiel got along famously with one another. He never mentioned it explicitly to Sam and Dean, but during the time they had had Farrah around he had appreciated being able to have company that was of his own kind. Now that she was gone, Elizabeth was filling that space. She was, of course, in a similar position. Sure, Heaven operated far differently now than it had in the past, but neither one was too interested in getting invested. Things upstairs had a way of getting factional and divisive. And besides, given there was no war on and presumably there wouldn’t be, they had no real reason to bother paying visits. As far as they were concerned, Michael would have them know if he absolutely needed them for something.

The only one who’d really struggled much since the fallout of the Heaven situation was Jack. He was still just a child, which was incredibly easy for those around him to overlook; he wasn’t accustomed to loss the way the Winchesters were. Why should he be? As such, he’d been running some experiments in his free time. He never mentioned any of it to anyone else because he didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but ever since her death he’d been toying with bringing Farrah back into play. He felt there was something of a precedent to back up his ambition; after all, he’d resurrected Castiel. What should make her any different?

Evidently there was something. He hadn’t been able to find her yet. Given how easily he’d been able to get to Castiel, he found it somewhat maddening how badly his mission to find Farrah was going. Hell, if anything he felt it should be going easier; he had a head start this time. Resurrecting Castiel had tipped him off to how angels’ afterlives work – and how to access them. He’d assumed that would let him find her in a timely manner, but it had been months of blanks. He’d open portals somewhat haphazardly and leave once it was clear she wasn’t in that space, under the assumption that, statistically, if he kept going that way he’d eventually land on the right one. He wasn’t aware how massively he’d underestimated the number of voids.

It had been his plan to surprise everyone when he’d gotten to Farrah’s; he’d tear open her void, take her hand, and jump through the portal with her as he’d done with Castiel, and then together they’d show up at breakfast or in the library or on a hunt as if nothing had happened. That, it appeared, was not in the cards.

It was Adam that found Jack unresponsive and somewhat pale, lying lifeless in his bed. After the Winchesters had been calling for him and getting no response, Adam had offered to check in on him. He assumed they’d just caught Jack in one of the few times he was actually asleep and that, resultantly, their beckoning was simply falling on deaf ears. And he’d been correct in a way.

“Jack,” Adam said, somewhat hesitant as he approached. He was still under the impression Jack was sleeping, but he noticed that he couldn’t see the rise and fall of Jack’s chest that would indicate breathing, which he found, naturally, odd. He put his hand to Jack’s shoulder, which felt deathly cold, and shook it gently. “Jack.”

He bit his bottom lip anxiously before he backed away. His steps were slow, cautious – until he was outside the room, at which point he picked up his pace and got back to the kitchen in a rush.

The Winchesters proper – that is, Mary, Sam, and Dean – were the only ones there. The angels had yet to join. All three eyed Adam with matching quizzical, if concerned, faces. “You want to tell us where he is?” Dean pressed.

“He’s in his room,” Adam replied, cold. He addressed Mary specifically; she was the easiest one for him to talk to, given she was the only one who had no say in the Hell situation. “He’s not… well.”

“Could you elaborate?” she asked, patient but firm as if Adam were her own son.

“Can Nephilim die in their sleep? Does that happen? You’d think something like that would just be a human thing, right?”

“What?” Sam interjected. The collective panic was rising.

Adam was not contributing to the increased tension. He remained as cool as he was when he’d entered. Granted, that wasn’t very cool, but it was beginning to look tranquil next to the Winchesters’ anxieties. “He’s cold, man,” Adam informed. “Completely unresponsive.”

“Define ‘unresponsive.’”

“What is there to define, Sam? It’s self-explanatory. I said his name and tapped his shoulder – his frozen fuckin’ solid shoulder, by the way – and he didn’t respond. Unresponsive.”

“Cas!” Dean was halfway down the hall already; he’d gotten out of his seat the second Adam had said the word _die_. He pounded on Castiel’s door and, at the sound of footsteps, went immediately to the next one to get Elizabeth as well. “Liz!”

“What?” Elizabeth asked. She and Cas opened their doors in near sync, but she’d been the first to give a verbal response.

“Something’s wrong with Jack,” Dean breathed, looking between the angels.

“What?” Elizabeth asked again, though this time taken aback instead of mildly irritated.

It wasn’t long before the entire household was at Jack’s side. Dean, despite hearing Adam’s recap, shook Jack’s shoulder. When that failed, he shook it harder, also futilely.

“Move,” Cas instructed, keeping himself as calm as he could. He put his fingers to Jack’s forehead and, sure enough, Jack immediately shot to life, coughing but seemingly okay.

“Good _lord_ , kid,” Adam breathed, startled by Jack’s sudden reinvigoration.

Jack looked at everyone with innocence and bewilderment. “Guys?” He was fully unaware of the state that firing his consciousness into voids left his body in back home. “Everything alright?”

“You tell us,” Dean replied, nearly growling.

“I do not under—”

“What were you doing?” Castiel asked, still the most collected of the group.

“Cas, I—”

Knowing from those two words alone that Jack’s response wasn’t going to answer his question, Castiel cut Jack off. “Jack,” he said, forceful this time. “What were you doing?”

Jack sighed deeply. He looked Castiel in the eyes and said, “Looking for Farrah.”

“ _Farrah_?” Elizabeth scoffed. “What’s there to look for? She’s dead.”  
“Yeah, obviously,” Jack said. “I am not an idiot.”

“Jack, it takes God to bring back a dead angel.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam said. Though addressing Elizabeth, he was staring at Jack.

“Come again?”  
“Jack’s the one who brought Cas back the last time,” Dean informed. He, his brother, and Castiel were all now starting to figure out what it was Jack was doing.

Cas looked Jack in the eyes. “Were you trying to bring her back?”

“Yeah. Of course I was,” Jack admitted. His hands, which had been under his covers the whole time to that point, were wrapped around a bandana Farrah used to wear, which he now displayed to the group. “When I went to bring back Cas, all I had to do was touch things he touched,” he said.

“And what? You just assumed it’d work with Farrah too?” Dean asked, irritated but understanding.

“Why not?”

“Jack, you and I have a link that you and Farrah never had. You know that, right?” Cas asked. “Did you consider that _that’s_ what let you bring me back? Not any one object?”

“I had to try, Castiel.”

“I get that,” Cas assured. “But you could have at least let us know.”

“You are right,” Jack sighed. He looked at the door, where the Winchesters, Adam, and Elizabeth stood. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“Jack, Farrah made her choice. She sacrificed herself to get us to where we are now. I’m sure she’s at peace with that,” Elizabeth said.

“So what? Would she not be _more_ at peace being alive – here, with us?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Cas replied. “Before she… Jack, one of the last things she said to me was that her death would balance out the multi-verse. I know it’s hard, but I think she’s already made her peace as is.”

“She did not deserve to die for him, Castiel.”

“She didn’t die for Raphael, Jack. She died for _us_ on her own terms.”

“That does not make it right.”

“A lot of things aren’t ‘right,’ Jack. It’s just how it is.”

“I never found her anyway. The angel afterlife is a network of individual voids. I assumed there would be a lot less of them than there are. I have gone through dozens and have not found her,” Jack sighed, resigning himself to failure.

“Why don’t we go downstairs, get something to eat, and we take it easy for the day, huh?”

“You do not eat, Castiel.”

Cas scoffed playfully and patted Jack on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said, standing up and waiting for Jack to follow suit.

As the group was leaving his room, Jack quickly set the bandana on his nightstand.

For the rest of the morning, everyone was enjoying themselves. Mary and Elizabeth were making pancakes together, although, being that all food – good or bad – tasted exactly the same to her, Elizabeth was not incredibly helpful. Sam had been kind enough to get everyone some coffee.

It was almost as if they were a normal group of people having a normal morning from that point. What they didn’t know was that in Jack’s room a spacetime tear was ripping through the wall – one not dissimilar to the one that had opened when he’d gone to get Castiel. The main contrast was how clumsy and flickering this rift was; usually, they were glowing and proud and strangely beautiful. This one was faltering.

An angel wrestled to keep it open long enough to come through it, which took a considerable amount of effort. Still, the endeavor was successful. Celestial warding in the bunker was, naturally, inactive, so as far as everyone in the kitchen was concerned, they were still the only ones in the bunker. The new angel had just barely made it through the rift before it slammed closed – again, strange behavior, since rifts usually sealed themselves neatly and cleanly. This one shook the furniture in Jack’s room.

The angel that had come through could hear the sounds of what passed as festivities for the Winchesters coming from the kitchen and followed them, taking purposeful strides. Arriving in the kitchen, she laid eyes on the group. A silence hung in the air for a second before she broke it. “What stupid thing have you lot done now?”

Sam was the only one to respond, given everyone else was too shocked to speak. His voice was breathy as he said, “Farrah.”


	3. Nothing I Do is Tame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three's title comes from The Resident.

“You know, I knew you people had some rather impressive levels of idiocy in you, but _this_?” Farrah scolded, evidently not grateful for her resurrection. “What did you do?”

“Jack went looking for you to bring you back,” Mary told her. She was the only one doing the talking because she had always been the best at calming Farrah’s more explosive urges, but the rest of the group was still in the kitchen, hung back and watching things unfold. “But he said he wasn’t successful.”

“That’s because he wasn’t,” Farrah confirmed, not actually getting any less infuriated. “I had to claw my way out of that place to get here. Nearly got trapped in that damn fissure.”

“What?”

“I was perfectly fine where I was, you know. My decision was my decision.” She looked to Castiel briefly to add, “And before you breathe one word about the afterlife being worse than Hell, I’d beg to differ. I’m utterly accustomed to isolation.”

“If Jack’s not what got you out, then why are you here, Farrah?” Mary asked gently.

“Oh, I’m sure he had something to do with it. But I’m not free because his little mission was a success. Whatever he did to try to find me, he caused damage. The void was practically disintegrating by the time I crossed over. Which, by the way, I only did because my sole other option was to hang tight and see what would become of me if I let a whole dimension cave in with me inside of it. This seemed like a better idea. But that rift was disastrously unstable, so it took some fighting to break my way through before it crashed shut behind me.”

“In what way does that make sense?” Dean asked, interjecting himself into the active discussion despite the rest of the group’s tacit agreement to let Mary handle it herself.

Farrah stared daggers into him. “How should I know?”

“We can work this out,” Mary insisted, trying to put things back on track. She softened her expression and put a hand to Farrah’s shoulder, which was shoved off. Ignoring this, she still added, “It’s good to have you back.”

“Maybe I’d say it was good to be back if I didn’t know that a whole dimension just imploded to get me here,” Farrah replied stiffly. She looked to the ceiling for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. As she exhaled, she brought her gaze back down to Mary, and her expression had softened. She reciprocated Mary’s tap on her shoulder before taking one of the open spots at the table with the others. Mary followed suit. “It is good to see you all,” she said, much more gentle. “I don’t mean to come off so combative, but when part of the reason you sacrifice yourself is to balance the multi-verse and then you’re forced back to life because it appears to be falling anyway, it’s just a tad frustrating. Still, if there were anyone I’d want with me to sort this all out, it’d be you people. I suppose.”

“If it means anything, you didn’t die in vain,” Castiel assured. “Heaven’s under steady command. Doubt that’d be the case if you hadn’t done what you did about Raphael.”

“I appreciate you saying that, but it doesn’t matter for much if reality literally collapses.”

Adam, of course, had not been following a single word of this conversation. He had felt like maybe he should have left to give everyone some time to adjust to things, but he chose not to for fear of his leaving being more disruptive than his presence. Now that everything had settled a little, he decided it was time to cut in. “Wait, sorry, I don’t want to derail anything but back up,” he said. He looked around to the people familiar to him while gesturing to Farrah. “Who the hell is this?”

She let herself smile a little bit and extended a hand to him. “Name’s Farrah,” she introduced. “Don’t you look familiar?”

“Adam,” he replied. “You meet Michael?”

“I’ve met several versions, yes.”

“That’s why you know me.”

“He’s our half-brother,” Dean interjected. “Fresh out of Hell. He was Michael’s vessel.”

“I see,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “What’d it take to make him let you go?”

“My brothers felt guilty. Guess they neglected to talk about how they sent Michael – and me, by extension – to Hell and left me there to rot for a decade.”

Farrah sat up straighter, taken by surprise. “What?”

“You heard me. Bastards sent their own brother to Hell and never even came to get me.” He was very much enjoying the opportunity to voice his grievances in the open. “Not even when they popped the box open to get Lucifer. Family, huh?”

“They definitely left some things out, I suppose. Didn’t know there was a third one.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“You’re one to take the high ground. Weren’t you out slaughtering other angels and consuming their graces?” Dean scoffed.

“I had an explanation for that.”

“Alright, so we’ve all done some… questionable things to family members,” Castiel added, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, have we ever,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh, rather amused by the turn the discussion had taken. “Remind me again, Castiel? How many of our siblings did you massacre on your little leviathan power trip?”

Farrah inclined her chin and directed her enthralled gaze to Castiel now. “Now _this_ one I have to hear, C.”

Cas sighed, pursing his lips. He shook his head, staring into the distance, before returning his attention back to Farrah. “There was a civil war, Farrah. People always love to conveniently leave that part out.”

“Well, now I’m even more intrigued.”

“ _These_ two,” Elizabeth said, gesturing to Sam and Dean, “Decided they didn’t want to go through with the Apocalypse.”

“That’s why Michael possessed me, by the way,” Adam interrupted.

“Right. Michael was supposed to possess Dean; Lucifer was supposed to possess Sam. When the Righteous Man got a little… _too_ righteous, Heaven made a substitute. And then they threw it off course anyway – sent both Lucifer and Michael to the Cage. Of course, Castiel stood by their side in all this, so much of the angels still in Heaven weren’t exactly pleased. Raphael—”

“Of course it’s Raphael,” Farrah scoffed.

“Raphael kickstarted a movement to redo Judgment Day, and Castiel launched his _own_ movement against him and thought it’d be a brilliant idea to team up with a demon and devour all the souls in Purgatory to use their power as a weapon.”

“You didn’t go to them?” Farrah asked Cas, nodding in Sam and Dean’s direction.

“I did, yeah. They weren’t in the mood to assist,” Castiel replied.

“Don’t lie,” Dean scoffed. “You went to Crowley before anyone.”

“Fine, maybe I did. But when I _did_ come to you two about it, neither of you were exactly eager to lend a hand or anything, Dean.”

“Sorry we had other things to worry about at the time.”

“ _Regardless_ ,” said Elizabeth loudly enough to retake control of the conversation. “It happened how it happened. Cas got way in over his head with that kind of power and started going absolutely ballistic killing brothers and sisters.”

“Good lord,” Farrah remarked with a shake of her head. “What doesn’t go on around here?”

“We like to keep things interesting,” Sam said coolly.

“We ever tell you why Mom’s alive?” Dean asked.

“Didn’t realize there was a reason for her not to be,” Farrah responded with a shrug.

“It’s something of a long story—”

“Of course it is.”

“But basically we reunited God and His sister. Guess that gets them on your side.”

“Well, if you’re so tight with Father maybe He’d be kind enough to get off his ass long enough swing by and give some insight about what’s gone wrong enough to get me here.”

“Doubt it.”

“He’s on an extended vacation,” Sam said. Farrah noted a hint of irritability in his voice as he spoke.

“Sounds like Him,” she said lowly. “Never did like to get involved, that one.”

“He only did that time because He didn’t have much of a choice,” Cas said.

“I don’t know. If the multi-verse is starting to devour itself, you’d think that’d be cause enough for Him to come back.”

“Hypothetically.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Dean scoffed. “Hell, might even drive Him off faster.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that,” Farrah said with roll of her eyes. She leaned forward and looked around at everyone, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her weight on them. “Guess we’ve got some work to do, then.”

“I thought we were done with that stuff,” Mary sighed. “All we’ve done the last few months is some low-stakes, casual hunting.”

Farrah inclined her chin and looked straight at Mary now. “That’s all? No angels, no demons?”

Mary shook her head. “None of that. Just run-of-the-mill monsters.”

“Interesting,” Farrah noted, looking at her hands as she pieced things together. “I wonder if that means Heaven wouldn’t be open to lending a hand.”

“Michael said to leave them alone,” Sam cautioned.

“Michael said not to cause _problems_ ,” Elizabeth corrected.

“Still might be an issue, then,” Farrah conceded. “If that kid’s poking around is what prompted all this, he might see that as you all causing problems.”

“He’d have to get over that,” Castiel countered. “You said the void was devouring itself?”

“I don’t have a better description than that. But it definitely wasn’t good. I can’t imagine it’s still a viable location anymore. It was essentially self-destructing around me.”

“Well, assuming he has any survival instinct, I’d be willing to bet Michael doesn’t want that happening here.”

“Fair point.”

“You all cannot be serious,” Adam scoffed. “What in hell do you people think you can do to stop dimensional collapse?”

“Maybe nothing,” Mary admitted.

“We have to try _something_ ,” Cas said. “If we don’t do anything, we all die. At least if we fail, we go down swinging."

“Fine,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “I’m in.”

“So this is _my_ fault?” Jack asked, panicked. “ _I_ did this?” He had been silent up to that point, but it had become too difficult.

Farrah gave him a forgiving look. “Maybe,” she replied. “But you had good intentions, kid.”

“And that counts for what?”

“You’re hardly the first person to royally screw up for the right reasons.”

He sighed but nodded. “Alright,” he said, though he still didn’t sound convinced.

“What a hell of a way to come back to life, huh?” Farrah said with a laugh.


	4. Every Interaction is Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four's title comes from Mindhunter.

“You know, I’m not usually the guy trying to bring down the mood or anything, but I think at some point we need to consider that me being alive is, like, actually a problem,” Gabriel said nonchalantly, pacing around Bartholomew’s office while the man in charge was sitting in the desk chair with his legs propped up on the desk, not taking eyes off Gabriel.

“Elaborate?” Bartholomew directed, though more hesitantly and confoundedly than Gabriel had yet seen him.

“Think about it, Bart—”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Think about it, Barry. I just woke up here. Out of the empty. When is mysterious resurrection good? Not even just that – mysterious resurrection outside my own timeline. That has to be paradoxical somehow, right? What if every second I’m here we bring ourselves closer and closer to collapsing the multi-verse? Father always said it was like—”

“Like a house of cards, yes, I know. What would you have done, then, Gabriel? Would you like us to kill you?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“So then explain to me how you intend to right this hypothetical wrong. And furthermore, who says you being here is even actually causing any cosmic problems? You? Based on what? Over the last few years, that damn dimensional portal has basically been a revolving door with all the people traipsing in and out at whim. Nothing cataclysmic to show for it.”

“Yet.”

“I reiterate my question, Gabriel. What would you like us to do?”

“I don’t know, Barry. Maybe at least not sit with your thumb up your ass doing nothing. Come on, at least consider the possibility.”

“I have considered it. I’ve been considering it for the last few years, Gabriel. As I’ve made clear. Nothing – _nothing_ that we’ve seen – indicates there’s anything wrong with having a bit of crossover between dimensions.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Gabriel repeated, shaking his head.

“If you have such a problem, _you_ sort it out. It’s no concern of mine. You’re perfectly free to go home if you’d prefer.”

“Go home?”

“Sure. Go back to your original timeline if you’re so spun out. We’ve got on fine without an archangel in play, so I have no doubt we’ll be perfectly capable of carrying on without you here. We kept you because we wanted intel on what happened to see if maybe we could improve our circumstances, but there’s nothing to say we absolutely _need_ to accomplish that. Things are fine as they are. So go on then, open the rift. What’s one more trip through spacetime on the total?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’ll stay,” he conceded. “At least if I’m here when we all die horribly in some world-ending disaster, I spent my time in a Heaven that has its shit in line. The one I grew up in never could get itself on course.”

“There, see,” Bartholomew praised, though condescendingly. “That’s the spirit, Gabriel. At that pace, you’ll fit in beautifully. Cautiousness that borders right on the line between optimism and pessimism.”

Gabriel only responded with a scoff.

“You do bring up an interesting point, however,” Bartholomew admitted, throwing Gabriel for something of a loop.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You mention the general implications surrounding inexplicable resurrection. Last time we believed someone resurrected, it was Lucifer coming from the other timeline into ours. Now, I don’t know if you believe that counts, but it’s close enough that I think you’re onto something being a little… unnerved.”

“You met my brother?” Gabriel said with a small laugh. He stopped his pacing and stood directly in front of the desk, looking at Bartholomew and folding his arms over his chest. “Sorry you had to go through that.”

“It might be a good idea for us to dedicate some resources to trying to work out where you came from.”

“I already told you, Barry. I was dead. I came from the afterlife.”

“Right, I understand. But something must have brought you here, yes?”

“I would assume so. If I could have resurrected myself I would have damn well done it.”

“Perhaps this means Father’s returned.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Gabriel chuckled. “You’re joking.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you’re crazy. No way that asshole returns just to bring me back. Shit, if He _did_ do that, He didn’t even get it right.”

“Alright, if you want to be smart, then name another way to resurrect a dead archangel. Or even a dead _normal_ angel. I couldn’t.”

Gabriel sighed. “Fine. I can’t either,” he granted. “But I’m also not an expert on the universe, Barry.”

“I have a feeling that if there were any other way to bring back our fallen siblings we’d have found it by now.”

“Then you’re way overestimating how smart the angels are.”

Gabriel, to his pleasure, had actually managed to get Bartholomew to drop his stoic poise for a brief instant to crack a smile. “Probably,” he admitted with a deep exhale and a roll of his eyes. “Still. I’m old-fashioned, I suppose. I like to hold a little bit of faith.”

“Trust me, Barry. Ain’t much to hold faith in,” Gabriel replied, his tone a touch colder than it had been before.

“Bit bleak, Gabriel.”

“I have confidence, not faith. Faith is Dad’s word, and He’s not much to look up to.” Gabriel pulled a chair up to the opposite side of Bartholomew’s desk and sat down. He leaned back in the chair and shrugged coolly.

“Perhaps,” Bartholomew responded, a little despondent. He shook his head and straightened himself out. He arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not the least bit curious as to what brought you back, then?”

Gabriel shrugged again.

“I’d be absolutely out of my mind with questions if I were you.”

“I do have questions,” Gabriel confirmed. “But I don’t think I’m gonna get them answered any time soon, so I’m ignoring them.”

“And you don’t think – at all – that Father could have had a part in it?”

“No. Categorically, no.”

“I don’t know how you could say that.”

“It’s easy, Barry. I just speak, and those are the words that come out.”

“Stop it.” Bartholomew leaned forward. “I know your inane quips are you being defensive,” he said with narrow eyes.

“So you’re a shrink now.”

Bartholomew leaned back into a more comfortable position in his chair. The corner of his mouth curled up into a small smirk. “I bet somewhere deep down you’re hoping – _praying_ – that Father’s the one who brought you back.”

“I’ll take that bet. Pay up, Barry.”

“And you’re just avoiding looking for answers because your worst fear is that you’ll find out this whole time you were right and He didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“This is really, really, really unhelpful.”

“He just let Lucifer kill you.”

“Shut up, Barry.”

“He let your older brother – your bastard, literally Godforsaken older brother – take you away from Him, and then he let you rot.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed blue for a second. “Bartholomew, don’t test me,” he demanded, lowering his voice.

“It’s a rational fear to have, Gabriel,” Bartholomew assured, raising his hands defensively. “But it’s not like the Gabriel I knew to be such a coward.”

“You don’t know _me_ , Barry,” Gabriel reminded. “You know the second-rate version. The one time I really decided to be ‘brave’ or whatever was the same damn day Lucifer killed me. Should have just stuck to my original plan and stayed out of things.”

“I think you and our Gabriel are much more alike than you’d admit,” Bartholomew said nonchalantly. “Sure, he might have been a bit more headstrong, but he never liked to play nice with Father, with his brothers, with _anyone_ really. Kind of like you.”

“Well, good for him.”

“Maybe part of it is me projecting my own fears onto you.”

“You think?”

Bartholomew rolled his eyes. “Can’t you be sincere for once?”

“Rather not.”

“It’s just been awhile since Father’s been ‘round, you know? We had hoped with the Apocalypse we’d draw Him out, but the almighty bastard never showed.”

“Typical.”

“Some of us even had enough naïveté to think maybe Castiel~ having Michael killed would do it. Same result.”

“Typical,” Gabriel echoed.

“So you’ll forgive me if seeing you here apparently resurrected… well, it stirs up some old feelings, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Gabriel. I have this pit in my stomach over the whole ordeal because part of me wants to hope He sent you and the rational part of me knows that all that’s going to lead to is the same crushing disappointment.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Gabriel scoffed. “Like I said, He’s not much to look up to. Hell, I wasn’t even around for our Apocalypse, and I could see that much. He created us, and then He bailed. Maybe He’s out there watching. Maybe He’s not. Ain’t much good speculating because either way He’s a dick.”

Gabriel had, again, gotten Bartholomew to break the façade. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”


	5. You Go Pulling a Thread, There's No Telling What All Unravels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five's title is courtesy of Chicago PD.

“I don’t now how you people _live_ like this,” Farrah lamented, sat at the table in the library with a laptop in front of her. She and the others were collectively pouring over various towns’ local news to come up with somewhere to catch a case. Group bonding, if you will. And after spending the majority of her life as a soldier or on the frontlines of an Apocalypse, she was unaccustomed to things being slow. “I’d frankly much rather be dead.”

“You get used to it,” Castiel assured, shaking his head.

She sighed, but gave him a small smirk. “If anyone should know how I feel, it’s you, I suppose,” she quipped, hoping to at least entertain herself for a few moments by starting a bit of dialogue. The silence on top of the reading was simply a step too far for her.

“Very funny,” he retorted. “I should congratulate you, Farrah; you’ve died and come back. Guess you’ve been initiated.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Have I?” she asked. “You know, I’m not quite sure how to feel about that.”

“It’s a rite of passage around here,” Sam chimed in.

“Does that mean _I_ have to do it?” Elizabeth asked, looking around at everyone. “Because I’d prefer not to.”

“You and Jack are the only ones who haven’t.”

“And we would both like to keep it that way,” Jack interjected.

“It’s not as bad as you’d expect,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Maybe for you,” Farrah scoffed. “Given the state of things in the empty, I wouldn’t be too quick to assume it’s even possible for an angel any longer.”

“Oh, come on, Farrah. You basically fell back to life. Can an angel even die anymore, or would they just be boomeranged back into action?”

“Find me an angel to kill, and I’ll let you know.”

“Haven’t found an angel. Only a werewolf.”

“You definitely didn’t find a werewolf, Dean. The timing’s wrong, and I’ve already read the article you’re on. It’s just a bear. Legit,” Sam replied.

“Fine. Haven’t even found a werewolf.”

“Angels aren’t lining up to leave Heaven these days,” said Castiel, skim reading an article from a newspaper he hadn’t even bothered to check the name of. “They’re pretty content to keep to themselves.”

“Since when?” asked Farrah, sounding somewhat indignant. “That’s nothing like the Heaven I knew. And I knew _both_ of them.”

“Hell’s been keeping itself in line, so Heaven doesn’t have much of a need to intervene, I suppose,” Cas replied with a shrug.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s been peace, Farrah. It’s weird, but I guess that’s the reason there haven’t been any new Apocalypses.”

“I think the three of us are perfectly capable of causing an Apocalypse on our own,” Sam joked, gesturing to himself, Cas, and Dean.

“But we’re not.”

“Well, then. If you lot, Heaven, _and_ Hell have all sworn off ending the world, that’d certainly explain peace,” Farrah laughed.

“We are causing them,” Jack reminded. “Well, I am, at least.”

“Maybe not. We don’t know for sure it was you, Jack,” Farrah reassured, though she could tell he knew she didn’t believe that.

He rolled his eyes. “You do not have to lie to me. I know it was me, Farrah.”

“Alright, fine, then. It probably was. But, really, who here hasn’t started an Apocalypse?” Farrah asked with a light laugh.

Elizabeth raised her hand. “Also me.”  
“Are you sure you’re really one of us?” Dean teased. He reached across the table to where Elizabeth was sitting and nudged her shoulder. “We’ve got two rules: everyone starts an Apocalypse, and everyone gets brought back from the dead.”

“Hilarious,” she responded, smiling. “There’s always a black sheep in the family, Dean. Might as well be me.”

“ _Not_ almost ending the world makes you the black sheep?” Mary scoffed. She shrugged. “I haven’t done it yet.”

“You did indirectly,” Elizabeth reminded. She pointed at Sam and Dean. “They’ve more than contributed your fair share.”

Mary smiled. “Doing me proud.”

“Thanks, mom,” Sam chuckled.

“What about me?” Adam asked. He was sitting quietly at the opposite end of the table from the rest of the group, enjoying listening to the banter but not feeling compelled to contribute. As was his resting state.

“You didn’t cause shit, Adam,” Dean affirmed.

“Nah, you had a hand, though. Maybe we could have avoided the first one if you hadn’t let Michael in. I think it counts,” Sam decided. “Congrats.”

Adam gave the brothers a self-satisfied grin, leaning forward and propping his elbows up on the table. “Just doing my part,” he said with a shrug.

“I thought you people said demons weren’t in play,” said Farrah, switching the topic abruptly as she read an article that piqued her interest.

“They’re not,” Sam said flatly.

“That’s a flat-out lie, Samuel,” Farrah retorted.

“What?” Sam asked, getting out of his seat and going to stand behind her, leaning in to look over her shoulder with one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table next to her laptop. “That’s impossible.”

“Read, Sam,” Farrah directed. “Tell me what else this could be.”

“It’s not demons,” Sam insisted. “There’s no incentive. Lucifer and Michael are at some kind of an agreement.”

“You’re thick, but you’re not that thick. These signs are _classic_ , Sam. Down to the yellow powder. Try convincing me that’s not sulfur.”

“Demons don’t spend much time topside other than to make crossroads deals,” Dean chimed in, taking his brother’s side.

Farrah looked over to Elizabeth and Castiel. “Back me up here, would you?”

Cas rolled his eyes and came to stand behind her on the other side of the chair. His arms were crossed, and his expression was stern as he skimmed the article she’d found. He looked to Sam, who had been staring at him the entire time he was reading in anticipation of a conclusion. “Farrah’s right,” Cas said curtly before returning to his seat.

“Victory,” Farrah said proudly.

Sam followed Castiel’s lead and reassumed his spot. “There’s no way that’s right,” he said. “What could they _possibly_ want?”

“They’re demons. They probably got bored and decided war was a hell of a lot more fun than peace,” Farrah posited with a shrug. “Can’t much blame them.”

“Lucifer would never let them do that.”

“Why shouldn’t he? He’s the Devil. I’m sure he’s up for a little chaos.”

“Keeping them under control is the only thing that gives him visiting rights with his son,” Sam replied, nodding in Jack’s direction.

“Something of a bastardized custody agreement,” Adam interrupted with a chuckle. When no one responded except for giving him impatient looks, he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, so then he decided he didn’t need your permission,” Farrah suggested, putting the conversation back on track. “How shocked would you really be?”

“Pretty damn shocked,” Dean answered.

“Jack wouldn’t let him anywhere near him if he unleashed Hell just to take the Winchesters out of the equation,” Elizabeth reminded.

“Correct,” Jack confirmed with a short nod.

“Clearly _something_ changed in Hell,” Farrah said, getting less patient with every passing response. “This is clean-cut demonic activity.”

Mary was already standing, swinging a jacket around her body and pulling her arms through. She paused and looked around incredulously. “Well? Why not check it out instead of hedging bets off a newspaper?”

“Your mother’s right,” Farrah agreed, getting to her feet and closing the laptop. “No use speculating. We’ll just go to—” She cut herself off to reopen the article and find the name of the town. “Morgantown, Pennsylvania,” she continued. “And find out properly.”

“That’s my cue,” Adam said. He lightly tapped the table and stood up, making to go towards the bedroom wing of the bunker before Farrah stopped him.

“You don’t care to join?”

“Never do.”

“Make it a first then.”

“I would really prefer not to. And it wouldn’t be the first anyway, for your information.”

“You’ll miss out on small town Pennsylvania.”

“I’ll survive.”

“What? Are you a coward?”

“No,” he scoffed, affronted.

“Good,” she replied. “So you’re coming.”

“I don’t know the first thing about fighting demons. I’ve only ever helped on smaller cases, like shapeshifters or something,” he said, shaking his head. “Only thing me coming gets you is side commentary. Which, apparently, you don’t want.”

“Even better. Anything that’ll get this lot to lighten up a little is an asset in my book,” she said. “Just look at them. It’s depressing.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was clearly amused. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll come.”

“Perfect,” she said, her tone self-congratulatory. “It’s like a family vacation.”

They each went to their things together, which, given they were out hunting so frequently didn’t take too long as most essentials were already in the cars they took. Once they were prepared, they split up into groups – one in the Impala with Dean and one in Mary’s car. Sam, Adam, and Jack went with Dean; the the angels went with Mary.

Sam couldn’t help notice Dean looked a little more excited about this case than he had about the last few, which was notable given how much Dean liked the job under any circumstances. “You look pleased.”

“It’s just like old times,” Dean said with a nod. He looked over to Adam. “Sort of.”


	6. I'm Not Good at Sitting Back and Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six's title is from Chicago Fire.

The group arrived in Morgantown about as promptly as they could. Kansas to east Pennsylvania wasn’t exactly a short drive. As a result, there had been more violence that fit the pattern they were chasing – three additional slaughterings, to be more precise. Three additional bodies brutally ripped apart leaving nothing behind but yellow powder by the window. The police department assumed it was a serial killer’s signature, so, much to Dean’s irritation in particular, it was impossible to ask around for information without hearing some variation of –

“You’re here about the Gold Dust Killer?” asked an on-site officer Elizabeth and Sam had approached. The group had split up. Dean had gone with Farrah and Castiel to the station itself; Jack and Mary were at the house where a previous murder had occurred to talk to a surviving family member. And Adam had stayed behind at the motel (open to helping over the phone but not in person), which left Elizabeth and Sam to check out the crime scene that had been created just hours before their arrival.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed. He sighed at the title, but he retained his composure. “We’re here about the… Gold Dust Killer.” He cleared his throat, inclining his chin. Elizabeth was smiling at his vexation, stifling her laughter.

“Never seen anything like it,” the man replied with a solemn shake of his head. He extended a hand to Sam and then Elizabeth. “Officer Reiner,” he introduced.

Elizabeth presented herself and Sam as she shook Reiner’s hand. “Agent Gilmour,” she said, gesturing to herself. “This is my partner, Agent Hendrix.”

“Right this way,” Reiner replied. He lead them through a few rooms into a bedroom in the back of the house. Two bodies, hardly recognizably human, were laying on the bed. The air smelled metallic from the blood that was still fresh and spattered across the wall like paint.

Elizabeth kept Reiner occupied with conversation while Sam went on his own to have a closer look around. He eventually looked to the floor; its hard wood was torn to ribbons in spots – similarly to the bodies. That along with the sulfur dust he’d discovered at the window and at the bed itself, gave him a pretty good picture.

He got Elizabeth’s attention. “I think we’ve seen enough,” he said casually, not wanting to raise Reiner’s suspicions. “We should get back to the others.”

“Oh, other agents!” Reiner exclaimed, nudging Elizabeth on the shoulder. “You didn’t say there were more of you. Feds really sent the whole cavalry for us, huh?”

She gave him a smile she hoped he believed was genuine. “That we did,” she chuckled uncomfortably. “They’ll be here soon. We should be there when they arrive. Sorry to cut things so… short.”

“Hey, you need to be where you need to be.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“ _Okay_ , Gilmour,” Sam said. He wanted to escape the room as fast as he could; the scents of the sulfur and the wood shavings and the blood were combining to create what Sam could only think of as the worst form of torture short of, well, actual torture.

Elizabeth gave Reiner a polite nod before she and Sam were on their ways. Once outside the house and in the privacy of their own vehicle, she arched an eyebrow at Sam and asked, “Well, Hendrix? What did you find?”

“Not demons,” he said, feeling somewhat triumphant given how he’d contested the proposition so hotly. “Hellhounds.”

“Hellhounds imply demons.”

“Hellhounds imply _crossroads_ demons. Deals are still running.”

“So, what, then? You think twelve people now have just run out of time on their stupid little crossroads deals within the last few weeks?”

Sam shrugged. “Guess so. Seen weirder.”

“You have to know there’s something deeper going on here, Sam,” Elizabeth responded. “You’re the one always going on about coincidence being fake.”

“Fine, we can dig deeper. But it’s gonna be crossroads demons. Why else would there be hellhounds?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What is your guess?”

“I don’t have one. And considering yours is just projections and assumptions, I would say that’s just as helpful.”

“Adam’s a bad influence on you.”

Adam, during this time, had been minding his business in the motel. No one had contacted him in need of anything; far be it for him to get involved without being explicitly told to. He had hoped to have some time to himself before the others got back and everyone had to work out a way for eight people to share one room.

The universe, as it were, had different plans for him.

“I heard there were Winchesters here,” quipped a woman. She’d appeared quite literally out of thin air, and she stood proudly as she looked down to Adam. “Guess my intel isn’t great. Who are you? Some type of refugee?”

“What?” Adam asked with nervous laughter. “Who am _I_? Lady, who are _you_? At least I’m supposed to be here.”

She arched her brow. “That’s probably fair,” she admitted. “My name’s Acacia.”

“Quite a name.”

“Thank you,” she said, smirking.

Adam shook his head, but, against his better judgment, he extended a hand to her. “Adam,” he said coolly.

Acacia’s smirk became an intrigued smile, but she didn’t take his hand. “Adam,” she echoed. “As in the Winchester’s damned little half-brother Adam?”

“Guess so, yeah.”

“Suddenly, I’m interested.” She took a seat on one of the beds. “Do you know where they are? I just… really need to talk to them.”

Adam was skeptical, so he simply said, “They’re out.”

“I can see that. You might try being a little more specific.”

“Hell if I know where exactly. They’re out with everyone else. I didn’t bother asking where they all went.”

“Everyone else?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Acacia.”

“I have a history with them, Adam. I need to speak with them urgently. So if you could be a little less useless, it’d be great.”

“Can’t help you. You could wait here. Dean said he didn’t think he, Cas, and Farrah would be gone long. Couldn’t tell you about Sam.”

“Castiel? The angel?”

“You have a lot of information already for someone who just continues to ask questions,” Adam scoffed.

“Anyone who’s anyone in this world knows _who_ the Winchesters and Castiel are,” Acacia replied, impatient but still condescending. “I need to know _where_. Two very different things.”

He shrugged. “I already told you I don’t know where they are. They’re out. It’s Morgantown, not New York City. I’m sure you can find them.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, pulling a pen and a notepad out of her handbag and writing an address on it. She set her note on the nightstand and gave Adam one last glance over before heading to the door. “Let them know I was here,” she directed. “The location’s on the note. Tell them to come alone.” And she was gone.

Adam arched a brow, still looking at the door even after she’d gone. “Well, that was strange,” he remarked to himself. He sighed and sat down on the bed she hadn’t, laying back and deciding he’d wait them out rather than call them. He’d have to talk to them either way.

His wait wasn’t even that long, all things considered, before Mary and Jack came in. They were followed promptly by Dean, Cas, and Farrah, who were in turn followed by Sam and Elizabeth until the whole collective was back together again.

Adam, personally, felt like everyone was spending far too much time together.

“The police department in this town is completely useless,” Dean said, so irritated he was nearly growling. “We were there for God knows how long. Got nothing out of them but that damn nickname. ‘Gold Dust Killer.’ It’s not even a cool one.”

“Well, Sam’s seen the crime scene, and he’s still convinced it’s nothing out-of-turn,” Elizabeth informed.

“Yeah, because it’s hellhounds,” he defended.

“Come again?” Farrah prompted.

“The bodies are mutilated. There are claw marks on the floor. The bedroom door was practically taken off the hinges. It’s hellhounds.”

“How does that make any sense at all?”

“Because it means the only thing happening around here is crossroads deals. And crossroads deals are being made and collected everywhere all the time. Business as usual.” He clapped his hands together as if cleaning them off. “Case closed.”

“I don’t believe for a second it’s as simple as crossroads deals,” Farrah scoffed, looking at Sam as if he were insane. “There’s been a dozen already.”

“Yeah, that’s what Elizabeth said. So I guess a decade ago one of them was hanging out around here, and now time’s up.”

“That’d be one hell of a coincidence.”

“Meaning?”

“The empty, of course. My own personal void was disintegrated – almost with me inside of it. And now there’s suddenly unexpected demonic activity, and you don’t think that could possibly be linked? How did you get this good at hunting with such poor critical thinking skills?”

“Do demons go to the empty?”

“Where else would they go?”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter. Hellhounds mean crossroads deals. End of discussion.”

“Alright, so if that discussion’s done, I have something to talk about,” Adam interjected, sitting up and raising his hand slightly.

“You do?” Dean scoffed.

Adam glared at Dean. “Yes, asshole. I do.” He directed his attention between Sam and Dean now. “Either of you know someone named Acacia?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, she knows you. She came here looking for you claiming you had history and she needs to talk. Left a note over there,” Adam informed, pointing to the paper on the nightstand. “She said to come alone.” He shrugged and laid back down.

“Weird,” Sam said under his breath.

“Still think it’s just crossroads deals, Sam?” Farrah teased.

“Yes,” Sam maintained. “But maybe I’m a little less sure about it.”


	7. I Think We Have Different Ideas of Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seven's title is pulled from Chicago Justice.

Gabriel wasn’t the only resurrection that had occurred on the other end of the portal. Angelic and demonic resurrections were happening sporadically on both sides; it was a coin toss which side a given one would go to, which is what ended up displacing Farrah and Gabriel.

Sometimes, however, the universe got it right, as was the case with the newly revitalized angel who was wandering North Cove. He had come across the hideout Jofiel’s garrison had made awhile back – back before Michael had fallen – and gave it a smirk. With a snap of his fingers, the whole thing crashed down.

Resurrection had struck him a little less confusing than it had Gabriel. Perhaps it was simply because he’d been gone for a hell of a lot less time, and he’d also had the luxury of being brought back in a timeline he was familiar with. However, while he recognized the dimension, he was unable to recognize the world itself; Bartholomew was telling Gabriel the truth – things were beginning to be sorted out. There was life beginning to grow on Earth again.

“Enough of that,” he scoffed. He didn’t care about the planet or the newly formed grass he was standing on. As far as he was concerned, he had been given a do-over. He had a second chance to achieve the goal that had gone so wrongly the first time.

As such, he flew to Heaven, where he was greeted by Gabriel and Bartholomew. He’d bypassed the door protocol; he didn’t know it was in place, and he would have ignored it regardless. “So _you’re_ in charge now? Did not expect to see that.”

Gabriel didn’t react; their intruder was behind him, and he couldn’t be bothered to turn around. Bartholomew, by contrast, shot to his feet, looking their company up and down. “Incredible,” he scoffed. “You were dead.”

“Oh, so was I!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Guess I’m not now,” the intruder replied coolly.

“We need to discuss this. Have a seat, Castiel~,” Bartholomew invited, gesturing to the chair next to Gabriel.

At the name, Gabriel finally decided he wanted to engage the newcomer. “Castiel!” he exclaimed upon seeing him. “Didn’t know you died too. Figures.”

Castiel~ raised an eyebrow at Gabriel as he took the seat Bartholomew offered. “Gabriel’s here?” he asked, still addressing only Bartholomew.

“In a sense,” Bartholomew replied. “He’s not ours.”

Castiel~ narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“He’s from the alternate dimension,” Bartholomew explained. “Apparently, he, like ours, was killed. Why he was resurrected here is anyone’s guess.”

“Something’s glitchy,” Castiel~ scoffed. “I thought it was strange that _I_ had been brought back, but at least I’m in the right timeline.”

“Brag much?” Gabriel teased.

“How long have you been back, Castiel~?” asked Bartholomew, redirecting the conversation. He was tense, but no more so than usual as far as Gabriel could tell.

Castiel~ shrugged. “Not long. Kind of just got dropped into North Cove and immediately came here.”

“Beg pardon? ‘Dropped’?”

“Yeah. Literally dropped. One second, I’m in a void, and the next I’m in free fall. And then I land in North Cove.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“No,” Castiel~ conferred, though irritable. “No, it doesn’t. What the hell have you people done? I assume no one intended to bring me back.”

Bartholomew shrugged. “Life goes on.”

“Yeah. How cute. So, if you all had nothing to do with it, would anyone care to hazard a guess as to what happened? Because I am lost.”

“Can’t help. Every second here I get more and more confused,” Gabriel replied, halfway laughing. “You get used to it.”

Castiel~ was not interested in entertaining Gabriel’s contributions, or lack thereof. He pursed his lips and gave Bartholomew a stern expression. “Can we get rid of the foreigner and have a serious conversation here?”

Gabriel looked at Castiel~ with indignance. “I’m relevant to this conversation,” he insisted. “You’re not the only one who was strangely resurrected.”

“I know,” Castiel~ replied, though his eyes never left Bartholomew.

“Enough of that,” Bartholomew commanded. He stood up and adjusted his suit jacket, looking down on Gabriel and Castiel~. “Let’s focus, shall we? I can’t imagine these resurrections are anything good.”

“Thanks,” interjected Gabriel.

“Not that it’s bad that you’re here,” Bartholomew said, backtracking as his face flushed red. “I just mean—”

“I get it,” Gabriel assured.

Castiel~ shrugged. “The only person I know who can bring angels back to life is—”

“Father,” Bartholomew said.

At the same time, Gabriel had said, “Dad.”

“So we’re on the same page then,” Castiel~ confirmed.

“Sure. But like I told Bartholomew, Dad’s not bringing me back. And He’s definitely not bringing me back _wrong_ ,” Gabriel countered.

He finally got Castiel~ to address him properly. “Then we’re still on the same page. I can’t imagine bringing me back was high on his To-Do List.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you kill his favorite.”

“Please,” Castiel~ scoffed. “That was Lucifer, technically.”

Gabriel looked up at Bartholomew. “Lucifer?”

Bartholomew rolled his eyes. “Yes. Lucifer. _Your_ Lucifer, actually. As I mentioned, there’s been a lot of interdimensional traffic.”

“So where is the bastard?”

“Gone,” Bartholomew replied, cold. “He left with Raphael. Any more irrelevant questions you want to ask, Gabriel?”

“Yeah, actually. Why didn’t you tell me Lucifer was here?”

“I did.”

“Well, you left some things out then.”

“You didn’t ask what he did,” Bartholomew said with a nonchalant shrug. “He was in control here for a little while.”

“You people let _Lucifer_ take over?”

“We’re not recapping everything for you, Gabriel. Yes, he took control. But only as an accomplice of Castiel~ here. And Raphael after that. When Raphael abandoned us, Lucifer went with him. He’s a non-starter now. He’s not relevant.”

“Besides, if you think he had anything to do with—” Castiel~ started.

“I don’t,” Gabriel interrupted.

“He doesn’t. He’s one of the last people who’d want to put me back in play.”

“Oh, good. You hate my brother too. I was starting to think we wouldn’t have anything in common.”

“So go on, then, Gabriel. I already described my resurrection. What happened to you? Same thing?”

“Nope. I just woke up here. No falling, no anything. I don’t even remember falling asleep or going unconscious or whatever the hell happened. I just know one second I’m in a void and the next I wake up in Missouri. Apparently in the wrong timeline.”

“That’s ominous.”

“Just a little, yeah.”

Bartholomew, since he’d stopped talking, had been eyeing Castiel~ as he formulated an idea. Castiel~ took note of this and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Sorry,” Bartholomew started, retaking his seat. “It’s just all this talk about Lucifer – it got me thinking.”

“Well, don’t leave us hanging, Barry,” Gabriel prompted, sitting up straighter.

“Did he not have a son?”

“You already lost me,” Gabriel said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

Castiel~ nodded to Bartholomew. “Yeah, he did.”

“And his son is what got him over here?” Bartholomew continued.

“Yes.”

“Look, I know you people said no recaps, but I’m going to request a recap,” Gabriel interjected. “Lucifer – my dickhead older brother Lucifer – has a _kid_?”

“Yes, Gabriel,” Bartholomew replied, fluttering his hand at Gabriel to get him to be quiet as he continued to think things over.

Castiel~ threw out Bartholomew’s idea for him. “What? You think that Nephilim kid brought us back?” he scoffed. “Why would he do that?”

“I have to side with Cassie~ here. I never even met the kid. Must have been after I died,” Gabriel reminded.

“All I know is he’s capable of opening dimensional portals,” Bartholomew said coolly. “So, hypothetically, why couldn’t he resurrect an angel? The way you describe it, you were each just in another dimension, correct?”

Castiel~ was partially on board. “I understand where you’re going, but there’s no motive. If anything, he’d have brought back Jofiel. Don’t see him anywhere.”

“Well, maybe he messed up,” Bartholomew posited. “Lucifer always made interdimensional travel seem a little complex.”

“I guess it’s possible.”

“How do we know if you’re right?” asked Gabriel.

Bartholomew sighed. “I guess someone has to go over to your dimension.”

“Great.”

“I’ll go,” Castiel~ volunteered with a casual shrug. “Can’t really matter too much if I die, right? I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

Bartholomew looked to Gabriel, who sighed exasperatedly but said, “Fine. I’ll go. At least I know the people there.”

“Perfect,” Bartholomew replied. “I’ll wait here for your word.” He got up and crossed the room to look for a slip of paper where Leigh Kennedy had written the spell she’d translated from the tablet. When he had it, he returned to the desk and said, “We probably won’t be able to communicate while you’re gone, but I’ll send the proper spell with you when you go. That way you can reopen the rift when you’re ready to come back. In the meantime, I need to keep an eye on Heaven.”

“Great,” Gabriel said again, just as lacking in enthusiasm as the first time. “No way this could possibly be a bad idea.”

“Lighten up,” Castiel~ directed. “I’ve done worse.”

“That does not at all make me feel better.”


	8. You Have to Ask Yourself What You Can Live With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To finish out the quartet, chapter eight's title comes from Chicago Med.

Sam and Dean decided they’d talk to Acacia, although it took some convincing to get the rest of the group completely on board. After all, telling them to come unaccompanied was, in Farrah and Elizabeth’s minds, a clear sign that Acacia was luring them into a trap.

“You’d have to be insane to think you can trust her,” Farrah scoffed. Dean opened his mouth to answer, and she said, “Right. I forgot who I was talking to. Of course you two are insane.”

“What if she knows what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“One of us can find her for you.”

“If she wants Sammy and I alone, she definitely doesn’t want any of you to be there without us. We need her to talk.”

“ _Do_ we need her to talk? I’ve never once talked with anyone by the name ‘Acacia,’ and I think I’ve done pretty well for myself.”

“Farrah, we’re gonna talk to her. It’s happening.”

“Alright, fine, then. Be stupid. But you’re not going alone. Let Castiel and I – at least – back you up. We can stay out of the way so she won’t even know we’re there.”

“I’d be okay with that,” Cas chimed in, looking between Sam, Dean, and Farrah. “She has a point. I doubt all this Acacia person wants to do is talk, Dean.”

“Sure. Whatever,” Dean folded. “But you better be goddamn ninjas.”

“I think we can manage it, Dean,” Farrah replied, shaking her head slightly. “Besides, if I sense our cover being blown, I’ll just wing us out.”

Dean looked over to Adam. “Where’d she say she was?”

Adam didn’t sit up. Instead, he gestured in the vague direction of the nightstand and said, “Do you not listen to a word I say? She didn’t tell me. It’s on the note.”

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam crossed the room to get the note off the nightstand. “It’s in town. Not too far.”

“Don’t die or anything,” Adam said dryly as his brothers, Castiel, and Farrah prepared themselves to head back out.

“Thanks,” Dean responded, though equally as sarcastic as Adam had been.

“Be careful,” Mary said, her well-wishing much more sincere than Adam’s. She stood up and gave her boys each a hug.

“Thanks, mom,” Sam replied.

At that, they were out the door. All of them climbed into the Impala, and Sam gave Dean Acacia’s note. Farrah, just to get one last word in before they’d actually left, said, “This is still a bad idea, for the record.”

The only response she got was Dean turning on the car.

The address Acacia had given them was another motel, though hers was somewhat more isolated and a little nicer looking (as much so as could be expected from a small-town PA motel) than the Winchesters’.

Dean went to the back of the building so they could find her room number without needing to talk to a front desk. Once he put the car in park and turned it off, he turned back as far as the car seat would permit him to talk with his (forbidden) celestial bodyguards in the backseat. “You two better damn well stay hidden,” he said gruffly before opening his door and getting out of the car.

Sam scoffed bemusedly at his brother and said, “We’ll find a way to signal you if we need help,” he said. He looked at the note, which Dean had set down by the console. Getting the room number off of it, he looked at the numbers near where they were parked and took a guess at where that would place the number they were looking for. “I think we’ll be somewhere in that general area,” he informed before following his brother’s lead.

“I don’t like this at all,” Farrah said yet again, though now the only one around to hear her grievances was Castiel.

“Honestly, neither do I,” he admitted. “But they have a point. This ‘Acacia’ might know something important.”

“And if she does, I’ll like the whole thing even less,” Farrah replied, stiff. “Her timing doesn’t sit right. Dimensions start collapsing, there’s potential rogue demonic activity, and this strange woman who those boys have never heard of shows up claiming she knows them. It all puts me off.”

“I said I agree with you,” Castiel reminded. “But we’re here now. Might as well let it play out.” He undid his seatbelt and sat cross-legged.

“I agree with _you_ ,” she said, somewhat playfully. “I’m going to complain anyway. Someone might as well. We’ve all been at accord too much for my liking.”

Castiel gave her a light laugh and shrugged. He continued to watch the Winchesters as they looked for the room number Acacia had given them. “Do you think it’s weird she knew exactly where to find them and still had them come to her?”

“I didn’t think about that before, Castiel, but, yes. I _do_ think that now. Why not wait them out? Or swing back around?”

“Maybe Adam said something.”

“I very, very highly doubt Adam said anything of substance.”

“Jesus.”

“You know what I mean. He seems much more inclined to prevaricate. That man says as little as he can possibly get away with in every conversation I’ve seen him in.”

“Fair point.”

Sam and Dean, meanwhile, had found the room. They looked to one another to brace themselves for whomever (whatever?) might be awaiting them inside before Dean knocked on the door with all the fake confidence in the world.

A woman, who they presumed to be Acacia, opened the door just a crack. “Winchesters?” she asked. She had still not undone the inner chain lock.

“Yes,” Sam replied. “You’re Acacia?”

“I am,” she confirmed. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Unarmed?”

Sam and Dean gave each other quizzical looks. “Should we be?” asked Dean.

“I am,” Acacia replied. “It seems only fair.”

“Prove it.”

“Alright. I’ll unlock the door, hands up, and you can see for yourselves,” she agreed. The door shut for a second as she undid the chain. She slowly opened the door a crack. “Push it open,” she directed. “I promise I don’t have any weapons on me.”

Sam, being on the side of the door toward the hinge, reached across the door and pushed it open, letting Dean get a first glance at Acacia. “Pockets,” Dean said sternly.

Acacia nodded and spun so her back was facing them. She put her hands in both back pockets to prove they were empty then turned back around to do the same with the front. “And the boots,” she said, knowing that would be his next command. She took off the left one, turned it over, and shook it, then put it back on and did the same with the right. “Torso,” she said coolly. She lifted her shirt and spun around again to show her midriff. “You’ll have to take my word for the chest, I’m afraid,” she teased. “Your turn.”

Dean nodded to Sam, who opened the door the rest of the way. They each took out the weapons they brought and held them in the air so she could see them.

“Good,” she said. She pointed to a bed behind her. “Set them there,” she instructed. There was a small dining table deeper in the room that she then gestured to. “We can have our little discussion over here. So you’re not tempted.”

The Winchesters slowly entered the room, and Acacia closed the door behind them as they disposed of their weapons. She gestured yet again to the table, and the Winchesters each assumed seats. “First thing’s first,” Dean began. “Who are you?”

“We have history, Dean. I promise,” she replied, assuming her own spot at the table and leaning back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest.

“What history?”

She laughed lightly to herself before looking Dean directly in the eyes. She blinked, and her eyes flashed red before she blinked them back to their original hazel.

“You’re a crossroads demon?”

“That does tend to be what the red eyes mean, yes.” She looked between the brothers and noticed their hostility had increased. “Relax. I’m not just any crossroads demon. I’m _your_ crossroads demon.”

“What?”

“Think back for me. When you made that one-year contract to save poor Sam over here,” she prompted.

Dean furrowed his brow. “We killed you,” he said. He paused for a second and decided to correct himself. “Sam did, at least.”

“I noticed.”

“What do you want? An apology? It’s not gonna happen.”

“I don’t need an apology, Dean. I’m not petty enough to drag you out here for an apology. Water under the bridge.”

“So then what _do_ you want?”

“I know what’s causing all these hellhound killings,” she said calmly. “I know you’re poking around here trying to figure it out.”

“How do you—”

“The bitch is using my dog. I know I haven’t been around for him myself, but I’m back now. He’s mine, and I want him back. She’s not even using him for actual deals. This is completely unauthorized, and I have principles. For the most part.”

“She?”

“Another one of us who escaped the void,” she said, snarling somewhat. “Her name’s Astaroth. You people were involved in her death, or you killed her or something – whatever your drama is, I don’t care. She’s alive, she wants to kill you, and she’s been using my sweet boy to draw you out. I guess she wants to settle the score.”

“I don’t remember an ‘Astaroth.’”

“Ruby,” Sam said flatly, still watching Acacia. “Astaroth trained Ruby in witchcraft when she was human.”

“Good God that was awhile ago,” Dean scoffed. “Fine, we’ll play. How do we know we can trust you?”

“I never actually _did_ anything to you, Dean,” Acacia replied, keeping herself calm. “I made you a deal – one that pretty much no one else in Hell would have given you, might I add. And I told you – well, I told _Sam_ – that killing me wouldn’t break it. I’m principled. I don’t seek anyone out; I come when one of us is summoned, and I do my job. You can handcuff me, you can Devil’s Trap me into this motel room, whatever you want to do. I don’t care. I just want my hellhound back. And maybe if you help me, I’ll give you some insight on these demon resurrections. I can’t imagine you boys don’t want to know what’s going on. You’re exactly like I remember you.”


	9. I'm Your Good Luck Charm at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine's title is from the Catch-22 miniseries.

“I feel like we’re all missing a lot of relevant information,” Elizabeth said after the Winchesters explained the situation with Acacia and Astaroth to the group back at their original motel. They were all essentially where they had been left, except Adam had stepped outside to get some fresh air and a break from the madness.

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“You made a _deal_ with her?”

“Like a decade ago.”

“To save Sam.”

“Yeah. Some dickhead stabbed him.”

“Right. So you made a _deal_ with Acacia?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“This is getting repetitive.”

“It’s just not a very Dean Winchester kind of thing to do,” she laughed. “You usually just jump straight to the Hail Mary. A demon deal seems too… practical.”

“Thank you?”

“And so then you killed her?”

“Sam killed her.”

“And she’s back?”

“Obviously.”

“And we’re, what, teammates now?”

“At the moment.”

“Look, she just wants her hellhound back,” Sam reminded. “She said she won’t cause any problems. Besides, taking out Astaroth can’t hurt.”

Elizabeth laughed again, sounding even more exasperated and nervous this time. “So we are teammates, then. With a demon. A literal black-eyed—”

“Acacia’s a crossroads demon,” Dean interrupted.

“A literal red-eyed, murderous Hell-dweller who preys on desperation. And we’re working _with_ her. Why don’t we take her out too?”

“Because we said the crossroads are fair game. Besides, she was right. She never actually did anything wrong. She made me the deal I asked her for.”

“And if Sam hadn’t killed her, _she’d_ have been the one sending her hellhound after you. _This_ hellhound.”

“We’ve worked with worse people, Liz.”

“ _I_ haven’t,” she scoffed. “Give me some time to… wrap my head around it. I’m not used to Heaven and Hell not constantly being at war. And before you say anything smart, just because I didn’t get along with Heaven all the time doesn’t mean I wanted to work with demons.”

“Whatever. Either way, she’s a part of the team. At least for this job. After that, we go our separate ways.”

“After you get her to tell us what she knows about these dimensional issues, yes?” Farrah asked. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about Acacia, her dog, or Astaroth. I want to know why I was almost murdered _in_ the afterlife.”

“Yes, Farrah. _After_ we get her to tell us what she knows about the ‘dimensional issues,’” Dean replied, mimicking her voice.

At that moment, Adam came back in. “You know, I went outside to get a break from you people, and yet I still heard the whole conversation. How loud do you need to be?”

“Sorry?” Farrah said, slightly perplexed. She rolled her eyes and redirected the conversation as Adam took his seat again. “Does anyone know how we’re supposed to find Astaroth if Acacia wasn’t kind enough to tip us off?”

“She said Astaroth was doing these murders specifically to lure us out,” Sam said coolly. “I don’t think she’ll be too hard to find.”

“Sounds like someone who’d rather find you than have you find her,” Farrah replied flatly. “Acacia didn’t give you anything?”

“Nothing we didn’t already cover multiple times,” Dean growled.

“No need for the attitude, Dean,” Farrah scorned, crossing her arms. “I’m trying to get this stupid side quest over with. We have more important—”

“If you bring up those damn voids—”

“Am I _wrong_? That’s a massive problem. Case in point – Astaroth wouldn’t even be in play if those voids weren’t collapsing.”

“We get it.”

“We kind of have to take it one thing at a time, Farrah,” Sam interjected, hoping to calm the waters.

It failed. “You’re always saying that,” Farrah snarled. “That’s the thing I missed the least about working with you lot. No sense of the bigger picture.”

“This _is_ the bigger picture,” Sam countered, now getting heated himself. “Astaroth is part of that problem, Farrah. We don’t have any leads other than Acacia, and she won’t talk until we take Astaroth back out of play.”

“Can we even do that?” Farrah asked, raising her voice even more. “Dean, surprisingly enough, made a very good point earlier. How do we know Astaroth doesn’t – what was his word for it?” She paused to come up with it. “How do we know Astaroth doesn’t just ‘boomerang’ back to life if we kill her?”

“She won’t,” said a woman’s voice from outside. The door swung open to reveal Acacia, who’d decided to come to their motel in person on a whim. “At least not immediately.” There was a salt line at the door, naturally, that she gestured to casually. “Mind letting me in? I _am_ here to help, after all,” she asked, inclining her chin.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Farrah sighed. As she was closest to the door, she was the one who broke the line. “What are you doing here?”

“I just told you. I’m here to help.” She extended a hand to Farrah. “Acacia.”

“I’ve heard,” Farrah replied, ignoring the gesture of cordiality and heading back to her seat. “Join us, I suppose.”

Acacia straightened her posture and crossed the broken salt line, sitting on the same bed she had earlier. Elizabeth, who had been sitting there before, moved to sit on the bed Adam was on, prompting Acacia to scoff. “What a welcoming group of people. I thought angels and demons were friends now, what with the truce.”

“We’re not _friends_ ,” Elizabeth replied, offended. “We’re just not… actively enemies.”

“Close enough.”

“Alright, play nice,” Dean commanded. He looked directly at Acacia now. “How do we find Astaroth?”

“ _You_ don’t,” she said. “I do. Well, sort of. I can track my hellhound, and she’ll most likely be with him.”

“Good enough for me,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Thank you so much for this,” she said, sounding sincere, although the others were still reluctant to trust her. She laughed to herself. “I guess it _is_ the least you can do after Sam so rudely murdered me for no good—"

“Just do whatever it is you need to do,” Farrah said, still very stiff.

“Alright,” Acacia replied, continuing to talk calmly and politely. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, muttering incoherently, before looking back up to the group. Her eyes flashed red for a brief second, and, once they’d returned to hazel, she said, “I found him.”

“Good,” Sam said, standing up. “Where are they?”

Acacia smirked.

A few moments later, the group, again minus Adam, were back at Acacia’s motel. “She must have found me,” Acacia posited with a shrug. “Everyone knows it’s bad form to use another demon’s hellhound. I’m sure she thought I was still dead and couldn’t get in her way.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s just common knowledge,” Farrah scoffed.

Acacia rolled her eyes and pointed to her room. “She’s in there. Or at least my Morningstar is, and that’s good enough for me.”

“You’re not gonna help take her out?” Dean asked, becoming slightly more put off.

“She kidnapped and enslaved my dog. I will definitely help take her out,” Acacia assured. “But if it’s just Morningstar in there, I’ll be satisfied for the time being.”

He shrugged. “Works for me,” he replied before leading the group to the door.

“I’ll go in first,” Acacia insisted. “Morningstar is my beloved pet. I want to get him out of harm’s way before you people start swinging weapons around.”

Dean gestured to the door. “Go for it.”

She nodded gratefully and teleported inside, unlocking the chain lock after she noticed it was set. “Morningstar! Come here, boy,” she said upon seeing her hellhound. He came bounding toward her, excited. She looked up from petting him to see Astaroth glaring down at her. “Bit rude of you to steal my hellhound, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“What? You’re the only demon that gets to be resurrected?”

“I just didn’t expect you to actually make it out.”

“What can I say? I like to defy expectations, I guess.” At that she snapped and the door flung open, revealing the Winchesters at the front of the door and the rest of their collective in a pack behind them. “You wanted to find them. I brought them to you. All of them,” she boasted. She put a hand on Morningstar’s shoulder. “Good luck,” she said before teleporting both herself and her hellhound to the safety of Hell.

“Winchesters!” Astaroth exclaimed upon seeing them. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I’m a little dissatisfied with how our last meeting went down.”

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” Farrah asked from towards the back of the group.

“I thought we covered this,” Dean said.

“You only covered Acacia,” Farrah replied. She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think it would all wind down to this boring revenge plot.”

Astaroth crossed her arms. “Who are you?” she asked. “I assumed it would only be the Winchesters, not their groupies as well.”

“Alright, listen,” Farrah said, her frustrations continuing to mount. “I don’t care who you are or what drama you want to settle with Sam and Dean.” She began to push herself through the group until she was in front, standing just inside the doorway. “We have more important things to take care of, sweetheart.”

Astaroth continued to look proud, which only enraged Farrah more. “A bit pathetic that they thought they couldn’t handle me on their own.”

“Jesus Christ,” Farrah sighed. She shook her head and flew behind Astaroth, stabbing her through the neck with an angel blade. As if nothing strange were happening, the body flickered before the empty vessel dropped to Farrah’s feet, lifeless. “Well, I suppose that answers _that_ question, then. We can definitely still all be killed.”

“Temporarily,” Acacia corrected, appearing behind her. “I didn’t think you’d take care of her so quickly.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Farrah repeated, shaken. She straightened herself out as Acacia stepped out be in front of her and talk to the whole group.

“It’s unlikely that’ll keep her down forever,” she informed, assuming they hadn’t registered when she’d initially said it.

“And you know this how?”

“You helped me get my hellhound back. I think that means I owe you some information, correct?” She looked around and noticed everyone had a slight hint of surprise on their faces. “Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted. Let’s go have a little talk about death.”


	10. You Ever Feel You're the Punchline to Some Cosmic Joke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ten's title comes from none other than the canon Supernatural season 15 itself.

The group, still short Adam, decided to convene at a local bar. Everyone figured talking things out with Acacia in a public setting would be better for all involved parties – less incentive to turn things ugly if talks went south.

After they had each been brought their drinks by the waitress and they were sure they’d have time to speak freely, Acacia opened the conversation. “I don’t know what you already know about the situation in the empty,” she began. “But it’s chaotic in there. Voids are crumbling.”

“We know that much,” Mary replied, ever the Winchesters’ diplomat. She gestured to Farrah, who was still giving Acacia a distrusting glare. “She recently came back from hers.”

Acacia arched an eyebrow, turning her attention to Farrah. “Good,” she said. “So you know how most angels and demons need to wrestle their ways out.”

“Most?” Farrah asked.

“Most. Sometimes they’re just… let go. It’s random.”

“Lucky bastards. I was almost crushed.”

“You would have been fine,” Acacia assured. “If you don’t make it, you’re ejected into someone else’s void. Or, occasionally, to Earth. And since it looks like all of them will break eventually, sooner or later you’ll get a chance to try again.”

“So that’s what you meant when you said Astaroth would only be gone temporarily,” Castiel said, putting things together.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Odds are, whatever void she was sent to will start collapsing as well, and she’ll be able to come right back here.”

“That’s inconvenient.”

“Bit of a bitch, yeah. But that’s the way it’s going. By the time I got out, I had been in three different voids.”

“So any angel or demon anyone’s ever killed could just come back at any time. And even if we kill them again, they won’t stay gone,” Dean said.

“Seems like,” Acacia replied, somewhat grim. “Although it might be a little harder. Like I said, I was in several, and the ones with more… well, souls, if you will – they were much harder to break out of. It’s like our energies stabilized them.”

“How does that work?” Sam asked, tilting his head.

“Hell if I know,” she scoffed.

“They are all connected,” Farrah said, formulating a new idea. “This might sound insane, but are they collapsing or are they merging?”

“ _Merging_?”

“Sure. If someone doesn’t make it to Earth, they’re forced into another void. Since the void gets stronger when it gains new… inhabitants, shouldn’t it stand to reason that, eventually, there will be a void or two with enough of us in there to fully stabilize it? Except now when we die we’re sent somewhere populated?”

“I guess I’ve heard stranger. And it would explain a lot.”

Now that Acacia had given them actual information, Farrah was beginning to warm up a little towards her. She gestured to Jack and asked Acacia, “Do you know who this is?”

Acacia shrugged. “You have to remember I’ve been dead for about a decade. I missed a lot. Not quite up to speed on everything yet.”

“Jack,” he introduced, extending a hand, which she took.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she replied politely, her tone evidently confused.

“Jack’s the son of Lucifer,” Farrah informed.

Acacia now looked at Jack incredulously. She held the hand he had shaken to her chest as she looked him over with awe. All she could say was a very breathy, weightless, “What?”

“We think he’s the reason the voids are… merging,” Castiel said. He was about to say ‘collapsing,’ but adjusted his wording at the last minute.

“Why’s that?” Acacia asked, still unable to take eyes off of Jack.

“I told you that Farrah recently came out of _her_ void,” Mary replied, reaching over and taking Acacia’s other hand, which was resting on the table, in hers. “She was dead. Jack’s brought Castiel back to life in the past, and he wanted to do the same for her.”

“But it failed?”

“Sort of,” Dean said. “I mean, she’s here.”

“He had to break into a lot of different voids,” Sam informed. “We think that’s somehow the cause.”

Acacia continued to look at Jack, but her tone was back to its default now. “They’re not really meant to be broken into.”

“That’s why we think whatever he did knocked something loose,” said Elizabeth.

“You know what,” Acacia started, speaking slowly as she gathered her thoughts. “I think you might be right.”

“Care to explain?” prompted Farrah.

“You said it yourself that they’re connected. Think of the voids like a matrix. Or a quilt. When Jack started poking around, he tore holes in it. And he’s powerful, clearly, but not God powerful, so say he doesn’t properly seal those tears. One or two, sure, it can probably hold up. But eventually there are too many, and it falls apart. Or, in this case, falls together.”

“Interesting,” Farrah said, her tone now matching the contemplativeness of Acacia’s. She looked around at the whole group. “Any ideas how we fix it?”

“I don’t think we do,” Acacia replied. “Unless somehow you can rope God into coming out of retirement.”

“No way in hell,” Dean scoffed. “He and His sister took off. I think that’s the end.”

“Then, no, I definitely don’t think the voids can be fixed,” she said, more resolute this time. “I think the only thing we can do is wait it out. Maybe you’re right, and after awhile they’ll stabilize themselves.”

“So until then, what? We just hope these newly resurrected angels and demons just stay out of trouble?” Farrah asked, indignant.

“We can go after the ones that don’t,” Sam assured.

“Damn it,” she sighed. “That puts us in a place to clean up a mess, not stop it from happening.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Neither do I. But it’d be nice.”

“I think the best you can hope for is that all of this stays contained within the empty,” Acacia said, taking a sip of her beverage.

“What do you mean?” asked Mary.

“Well, if the voids just collapse in on each other into larger voids, that’s one thing. But, like I said, sometimes they open up into Earth.”

“Like mine did,” Farrah interjected.

“And like mine did. The third time, at least,” Acacia said with a nod. “So I’m just a little concerned that maybe it’ll affect _this_ dimension, too.”

“This is probably the reason why God didn’t want people jumping between dimensions,” Castiel suggested.

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Farrah agreed.

“Yeah, but you’d think if that were enough to literally collapse reality, he’d have made that a little clearer,” Elizabeth said irritably. “I would have.”

“Since when does God ever want to be ‘clear’?” scoffed Dean before rolling his eyes and taking a large swig of his beer.

“Do you reckon there’s any way at _all_ to know if this is really enough to end the world?” Farrah asked. She opened her question up to the whole group, but was really targeting it towards Acacia. “I mean, I thought an influx of pissed off resurrected angels and demons would be apocalyptic enough, but I didn’t anticipate the possibility of, well, dimensional collapse.”

“Why would there be a way to know?” Dean scoffed again, taking yet another drink. “It’ll probably just come out of nowhere.”

“Positive attitude you’ve got there, Dean.”

“I think he’s right,” Acacia conferred. “I mean, you were there when it happened in the voids. It was sudden. Why should it be different here?”

At that moment, the table was approached by two men. While both were rather shocking to see standing in front of them, the one who spoke first put most of the group immediately on guard. “We need to have a little conversation,” he said.

“Sammy, how much have I had to drink?” Dean asked. “Because I know that’s not Gabriel with Cas’ stunt double.”

Castiel~ rolled his eyes and pulled two chairs up to the table. He assumed one, and Gabriel assumed the other. “As nice as it would be to catch up, we’re not here for that,” Castiel~ said stiffly. “For starters, we’re not even sure _why_ we’re here. Care to hazard a guess as to what’s resurrecting angels all of a sudden? Because it’s nothing coming from our end.”

Dean was about to answer when Acacia, not prepared to be the one out of the loop in this conversation, cut him off. “What is going on here?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “This is Castiel~,” he introduced dryly. “He’s me from another timeline. Farrah’s timeline, actually. It’s a long story.”

“Forget it,” she said shortly. “This feels like a ‘less I know the better’ type situation.”

“So this is resurrecting angels from _your_ dimension too?” Sam asked, willing to ignore the obvious tension brought on by the group’s history with Castiel~ if it meant figuring out more of what was going on.

“It’s resurrecting everyone, I guess,” Castiel~ replied. “And it’s not doing a very good job. This is em>your dimension’s Gabriel, not ours. Yet somehow he wakes up on our end.”

Acacia decided to engage in the discussion as much as she could, given that the dimension distress in question was her area of expertise at the moment. “It’s pretty chaotic in the empty. There’s really no telling where your void spits you out.”

“I’m not having this conversation with a demon. My standards are low enough as it is talking with _these_ people.”

“Why are you here, then?” Dean asked hotly.

“Call us crazy, but when Gabriel and I were mysteriously brought back to life we assumed your little satanic power generator over there might be responsible.”

“I mean, they are not wrong,” Jack said, somewhat amused.

“Get out,” Dean demanded, glaring at Castiel~. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Technically you’re the ones who brought me back in the first place,” Castiel~ taunted. “Did you miss me that badly?”

“Look, Dean, all we’re here for is confirmation that Jack did this,” Gabriel said, finally deciding to speak. “Also, hello to you too, jackass.”

“Forgive me if I’m not excited to see you when you’re with that bastard,” Dean replied, still staring down Castiel~.

“Get over it, Dean. That’s all in the past,” Castiel~ replied. He turned to his double and extended a hand. “If I apologize for imprisoning and impersonating you—”

“You tortured me,” Cas interrupted, equally as tense as Dean.

Castiel~ rolled his eyes. “If I apologize for imprisoning you, torturing you, impersonating you, and trying to kill you more than once, will you call off your attack dog? I’m not here for revenge. We just want to know what the hell happened.”

“That’s what everyone wants to know.”

“Great, so you admit we’re all on the same side here. Like I said, I’m… sorry. It was necessary at the time.”

“That was a completely worthless apology.”

“It’s the best you’re gonna get, Cassie.”

“You’re really lucky we have yet another Apocalypse to sort out or I would throttle you right now.”


	11. Reality's Kicking Faith's Ass, Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The source for chapter eleven's title is Prison Break.

“Jesus. Every time you people come through that door, things get more and more confusing,” Adam said upon the rest of the group’s return to the motel. They were still accompanied by Acacia, and they had brought Gabriel and Castiel~ with them, so his perplexity was justifiable. “Just once could you go to a bar and come back drunk and alone like the rest of society?”

“Who’s this?” asked Castiel~.

Adam looked back and forth between the Castiels, who were, more confoundingly yet, standing side-by-side. “Adam,” he introduced. He was rather calm for someone being newly introduced to the concept of interdimensional counterparts. He looked to Sam, Dean, and Mary and said, “You said you were going out to kill a demon. Didn’t realize that meant you had to clone Castiel.”

“They didn’t clone me,” Cas protested, wanting to put as much of a divide between himself and his double as possible.

“If they had, it would have been an improvement,” Castiel~ teased. He gave Adam a smile he intended to be friendly but that came off more patronizing than anything. “I’d love to tell you the whole story, but it’s not relevant. I’m Castiel from another dimension.”

“I assumed as much,” Adam replied, deciding to stop his jests to defend his intelligence. “I’m not that stupid. I’m generally filled in.”

“Good!” Castiel~ breathed, turning to the rest of the group. “Not to impose, but if I’m supposed to hang around here with you while we all join forces to prevent the end of the world, I’m not doing it in Pennsylvania.”

“We live in Kansas,” Dean replied dryly. “We’re doing it in Kansas.”

“That’s not really an improvement. It might actually be worse.”

“You could leave.”

“If Bartholomew were here, maybe I would. But I feel like my dimension needs some representation that’s not a foreigner or an expatriate,” Castiel~ sighed, gesturing to Gabriel and Farrah respectively.

“Bartholomew’s still in charge?” asked Farrah.

Castiel~ shrugged. “See, it’s hard for me to really know the details because you all decided to make it your life’s purpose to murder me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Cas growled.

“Either way. As far as I know, yes, he’s the one running things. It’s actually not too bad over there. Gotta give the man credit, although I _hate_ listening to him talk.”

“Any chance we could trade you for him?”

“No,” Castiel~ replied, hostile. “He won’t come. He wants to keep things going over there or something, which seems like bad prioritizing when the world might end anyway, but it is what it is, I guess.”

“Alright, I’m with new Cas,” Adam interjected. “Let’s go home. I want my own room again so I can ignore all of you and your weird problems more easily.”

As if Adam’s wish were their command, they were back in Kansas as quickly as they could be. Once they pulled in and were all standing together in the garage, Elizabeth noted, “Have you ever realized every time we make a breakthrough the size of our group increases?”

“It’s part of the magic,” Farrah replied wryly before heading inside, followed shortly by the rest of the group.

“Well, I’m gonna tap out. I was cool going and hanging around while you all killed a demon, but I’m not participating in some last-ditch effort to save the world. That’s what got me sent to Hell in the first place,” Adam announced before disappearing into the wing of the bunker where all their bedrooms were.

“He’s fun,” Castiel~ mocked.

“He’s not thrilled to be here,” Farrah said. “Something about his brothers leaving him to rot in Hell for a decade.”

“Them?” he asked, pointing to Sam and Dean.

“Who else?”

“Jesus. You two are out of control.”

“Adam’s fine,” Dean insisted.

“Yeah, it sure seems like it. Of course, I’d probably be pissed if _my_ brothers left me in Hell and then almost ended the world.”

“Several times,” Elizabeth added.

“Several times,” Castiel~ echoed. He rolled his eyes and put his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright. I’ll play nice.”

“Or you could keep going and give me a reason to kill you again,” Cas growled.

“Hey, in fairness, everything that happened over there with Lucifer was on you people as well. Farrah filled me in; I know you sent him there.”

“You didn’t need to—”

“We’re not going over all of this again,” Mary interrupted, stepping between the Castiels to separate them. “That’s the past.”

“That’s what _I_ said,” Castiel~ scoffed.

“Drop it,” she commanded, her voice low and stern.

“So you two said you were here to get intel,” Elizabeth mentioned as the group made their way to the library to sit around the table.

“Yes,” Castiel~ confirmed. He sat opposite his double, opting to go to the far side of the table specifically to avoid continuing to be next to him. “Bartholomew wanted to know what was going on in case maybe it was a problem.”

“Does that mean you intend to go back?”

“Eventually,” he replied. “I was hoping we’d all be able to pull out a solution before we did. It’d make my life easier if I could return with good news and not… the potential end of the world. We’ve already had that happen once.”

“Then you won’t be going home any time soon,” said Farrah, her arms across her chest. “We’re not convinced a solution is even in the cards.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s a little out of our depth, wouldn’t you say?”

“That sounds pretty defeatist, Farrah.”

“What? You have any ideas?”

“No, but I’m willing to give it a shot at least. Come on, I _know_ you all have it in you to fight.”

“It’s less that we’ve given up and more that we’re under the impression it’s something that’ll sort itself out for us.”

“Right. Apocalypses have a way of doing that.”

“This is a completely different situation, Castiel~. We’ve come to the conclusion that the voids are merging together. Once they’re done, that’s it. Problem solved. So we’re just gonna let the damn thing play out.”

Castiel~ nodded, looking at his hands as he considered what she was saying. “Alright, I fold. That makes sense.”

“Glad to have your approval.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving now?” Dean asked callously.

Castiel~ scoffed. “If you’re all so anxious for us to leave, then _fine_. We’ll leave. Doesn’t look like there’s anything more to say anyway.”

He and Gabriel rose to their feet. Castiel gave them a somewhat perplexed look. “You’re going too?” he asked Gabriel specifically. “Thought he said you were from this dimension.”

“I am,” Gabriel replied shortly. “But their Heaven’s nicer.”

Farrah laughed the second the words were out of his mouth. “No way. _Bartholomew_ made that Heaven worth your time? Tell the bastard I send my commendations.”

Castiel~ and Gabriel disappeared in the blink of an eye. Acacia, who had never sat down to begin with, straightened her posture and said, “I feel like I should be going too. I have a dog to look after, and I don’t think you need me for anything else.”

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” Dean said. “You have to ‘look after’ your hellhound? Isn’t it dead already?”

“Yes, Dean, I need to look after Morningstar. He’s dead, not emotionless. Hellhounds need affection too.”

“Do you know how impressive it is that _that_ is somehow the strangest thing I’ve heard in awhile?”

Acacia smirked. “I’ll come if you call,” she said, addressing everyone now. “If, you know, by chance you need my expertise.”

“Wait,” Sam said, holding his hand up.

She sighed. “What do you need?”

“You’re gonna go back, get your dog, and then just keep making deals that condemn people to Hell?”

She blinked her eyes red. “Yes, Sam. It’s in the job description.” She blinked them back to hazel. “I _promise_ I’ll be a good girl. I only come when I’m called, cross my heart. Nothing wrong with giving the people what they want, is there?”

He didn’t want to let her leave, but he knew crossroads deals were still allowed to operate which gave him no grounds to stop her. In his gut, he felt like he should still stop her, but instead he let it slide. “Whatever.”

“Thank you for your permission,” she said sarcastically before leaving.

Now that the group was back to its original members, Farrah decided there were still some things that needed worked out. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.

Mary shrugged. “I mean, we already established there’s not really much we can do to stop anything. So I guess we have to just keep an eye out for any weird demonic killings. Or angelic killings. Weird killings.”

Farrah put her head in her hands for a second, shook it, and then looked back up to the group. “I suppose there’s nothing for me to argue.”

“There’s a first,” Dean scoffed.

“Real cute, Dean.”

“I try.”

She stood up. “Well, I’m off to bed. Figuratively speaking.”

The second she turned to go to the bedroom wing, they were greeted by Michael, which was an incredibly rare occurrence. Hearing him enter, Farrah turned back around and stared at him, both confused and awestricken. “You all have some explaining to do,” he said.


	12. It Terrifies Me What You Could Do in a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote for chapter twelve's title is from Mad Men.

There was a bit of a pause as everyone registered Michael’s appearance. Farrah, to no one’s surprise, broke the silence. “For people who claim there’s celestial peace, you lot are very highly in demand.”

“Farrah,” Michael greeted. “Welcome back.”

She gave him a cynical smile and returned to her previous seat at the table. “What’s so important you had to come yourself? The Winchesters and Castiel over here were very insistent that you Heaven types kept yourselves contained.”

“We try to stay out of the way,” Michael confirmed. “My brother and I have come to something of an agreement.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He crossed his arms and arched his eyebrow. “We’re very insular these days. No one goes out, and nothing really comes in – other than souls, of course.” He began pacing somewhat slowly, contemplatively. He spoke with patience, but at the same time he was accusatory and frustrated. “So imagine our surprise when we started noticing strange demonic activity on Earth. At first we thought the bastards went back on the deal, so I had a chat with my brother. He’s adamant it’s got nothing to do with them.”

“He’s incapable of lying now?”

Michael shook his head. “You know, I thought the same thing. But I didn’t have any proof, so I took him at his word. And apparently I made the right call because as it turns out the demons aren’t the only ones with spiking activity. The angelic energy on Earth is increasing too. Thought that was a little odd for the demons to be doing, so I’ve taken them out of the equation. Especially because now everyone’s realized all this flurry of suspicious activity is really _resurrections_. Angels and demons coming back to life. Doesn’t happen very often.”

Farrah had no comment, merely sighing as she realized the direction of the conversation. She looked across the table to the Winchesters.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked, although he knew the answer. He was just hoping the direct question would prompt Michael to get to the point.

“Well, there’s only really one perfectly functional way to resurrect an angel or a demon. Father needs to get involved. But, of course, that was a write-off.” Michael was now staring straight at Jack. “The only person in play with the kind of power necessary to pull something like that off would be your Nephilim.”

“Congratulations on reaching the same conclusion everyone else has. Did you need to come all the way to Earth to tell us that?”

“No,” Michael admitted. “But what I _did_ need to do was come and find out for myself just what the hell is wrong with you people.”

“What?”

“I really don’t know how many times it needs established that you can’t just go playing with the multiverse at a whim.”

“We get it. It’s fragile.”

“It’s _unstable_. He’s going around opening these interdimensional doors like it’s no big deal, and now he’s bringing celestial creations back from the dead. Do none of you see how that’s just begging for something to go wrong?”

“No one said anything when he opened the rift to the alternate timeline in the first place. Or when he brought Cas back the first time.”

“There’s a big difference between that and what he did this time.”

“And that is?”

“He didn’t just bring back _one_ angel this time, did he? No, he’s brought back _dozens_ of us. That kind of surge in energy has ripple effects, Dean. And he’s not capable of properly closing these damn portals he keeps opening.”

“The door to my timeline gets opened every other second, and nothing’s come of that yet,” Farrah countered.

“Nothing you’re aware of. We did a bit of testing in Heaven. Every time it’s opened and closed and reopened and reclosed, the same exact spellwork lets it stay open just a little longer. And a little longer. And a little longer. You wouldn’t know because whenever you all go dimension hopping you aren’t using spellwork.”

“Beg pardon?”

“None of us – no one in Heaven, in Hell, on Earth, in Purgatory, anywhere – has the kind of power it takes to close it up right. Dimensional rifts need _sealed_ shut, not simply closed. When Father does His dimensional travels, He’s capable of closing the tear like it was never opened – perfectly back to normal. The most your Nephilim or any imperfect, worldly spellwork can do is tape it. There’s leaks, for lack of a better word.”

“Wait, wait. We’ve all come to the conclusion the voids that make up the empty are merging together because of something that went awry when Jack tried to find mine – exactly what you’re saying now, actually. But we also assumed they were interconnected to each other but wholly separate from us. And now you’re saying they aren’t?”

“I’m saying they aren’t. They’re not separate from us, but they are farther away from here than they are from one another.”

“So if _they’re_ merging together—”

“Yes, it could eventually have a more catastrophic effect here than just some unwanted resurrections.”

“That’s bloody brilliant.”

“It’s already having an effect in Heaven,” he continued. “Whenever another angel comes back to life, it increases the celestial energy in this realm, like I said earlier. In the past, God has been known to allow an angel or two to come back,” he admitted, now staring directly at Castiel. “As you’re all well-aware. But that was controlled. One angel every few years isn’t going to throw things too far out of alignment. But it’s _not_ been one in a few years. It’s every few _days_ that another one pops up. It’s sending shock waves through Heaven. Angels dying decreases it, sure, but it adapts much more quickly to that because it’s simply much more likely.”

“Meaning?”

“It’ll sound positive when I say it, but because the celestial character of the universe is going up, Heaven is actually getting stronger. You’ll find that angels’ powers now are notably more potent than they were when the population was at its lowest. However, it does have some drawbacks. For one, this interdimensional issue we’ve been having is making it so the Heaven here is much closer to the Heaven you come from, Farrah. So on occasion our… angel radio, as you call it… overlaps with theirs. The frequencies are starting to even out with one another. You can see how it gets hard to communicate when half the transmissions aren’t even ours. I’m sure they’re having the exact same problem over there.” He gestured to Jack. “And I’m sure if anyone asks him, he’ll tell you that he’s hearing a hell of a lot more activity.”

“I turned it off,” Jack said.

“What?” Castiel asked. “I thought you said you wanted it on.”

“I did. It was manageable before. But I _have_ been noticing the increased activity Michael is talking about. And it became unbearable.”

Castiel sighed and looked up to Michael. “So what? The voids are merging, and now this dimension is merging with that one?”

Michael shrugged. “We can’t say for sure.”

Sam sat up a bit straighter as he came to a realization. “I think so,” he said, sounding somewhat breathy and withdrawn as his mind was racing.

“Care to elaborate?” Michael prompted, his tone growing more irritable with every passing moment.

Sam pointed to Cas. “His dimensional counterpart was _just_ here,” Sam informed. “With Gabriel. But _our_ Gabriel.”

Michael inclined his chin. “Go on.”

“They said Gabriel was one of the resurrections,” Sam continued, still speaking a little slow as he was putting things together. “But something was off, I guess, because he was brought back over there instead.”

Michael paused his pacing. “Excuse me?”

“We didn’t really know what to make of it, but it makes sense that if _these_ dimensions are merging the same way _those_ ones are that maybe the line gets a little blurred. So when an angel or a demon gets ejected from their void, maybe there’s a pretty big chance they’re in the wrong timeline by accident because they’re so close together now.”

“You better be wrong about that,” Michael replied.

“Why?”

“For one, I don’t know how to stop it. For another, I don’t know exactly what our dimensions merging would actually mean. There’s too much up in the air, and the multiverse is so intricately designed that I’m averse to that.”

“Alright, fair,” Sam conceded.

“So what you’re saying is we should stop alternate Cas from going back to his timeline with Gabriel?” asked Dean.

“Yes, obviously I’m saying that,” Michael replied. “We need to put a moratorium on interdimensional travel.”

“Great,” Dean said coolly. “So who’s gonna let them know?”

Farrah rolled her eyes. “I’m on both radios. They’re still separate enough for the time being that I can have my native one shut down, although now that Michael mentions it I _have_ been getting a bit of interference. The point is, I could probably send something out.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Do that.”

“On it,” she affirmed.

“What is it with you Winchesters?” Michael scoffed, turning his attention back over to them and resuming his pacing.

“What?” Dean asked, feigning innocence.

“Every time something goes horribly wrong, you’re involved somehow,” Michael continued, shaking his head.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say _every_ time.”

“I’ve been filled in Dean. The first Apocalypse – the _planned_ one – that was you. Or at least you were an integral part.”

“That wasn’t our fault.”

“And then when Castiel here decided to play God and almost end the world, you had a hand in that too, correct?”

“That was all his decision,” Dean countered.

“Right. His decision to use the power of Purgatory to fight a civil war – a civil war that happened because you and your brother derailed the Apocalypse.”

“A bit reductive.”

“And then _that_ was what brought the leviathan back to Earth, yes?”

Dean decided to stop protesting. “Yes,” he admitted.

“And after that it was the angels falling.”

“How was _that_ on us?”

“I mean, technically it wouldn’t have happened if Castiel hadn’t fallen. And _that_ wouldn’t have happened if you’d minded your business from day one.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“And besides, you _are_ the ones that brought Metatron out of hiding, right? And how would he even have put his plan into action without the tablets being dug up by the leviathan? The leviathan _you_ all played a part in bringing topside.”

“Why is any of this relevant, Michael?”

“It’s not, really. But it’s just… interesting.”

“Oh, really?”

“After the angels fell, it was a little more peaceful as far as world-ending disasters go,” Michael continued. “But you took on the Mark of Cain. Remind me why?”

“To kill Abaddon,” Dean sighed.

“To kill Abaddon. And who’s fault was it that Abaddon was free?”

Dean rolled his eyes, not giving Michael the satisfaction of a proper answer.

“And, of course, then your brother decided to use the Book of the Damned to remove it, so the world ending starts right back up. You let our Aunt Amara loose – that was a big one. Although, I got to admit, I’m impressed with how you handled that. The only problem, however, is that’s what really completely took Father out of play.”

“He wasn’t even in play until He knew His sister was back.”

“Sure. But we could always sense His general presence – even I could, and I was in the Cage. Ever since He left with our Aunt, that’s dead. But anyway, you setting Lucifer free is the reason we have an archangel Nephilim for the first time in history. And _he’s_ the reason we had that Raphael issue a little while ago. And, of course, he’s also the reason we’ve had such a drastic increase in interdimensional travelling. You asked earlier why I came all the way here to talk about what’s going on? That’s why Dean. You and your brother and anyone you associate with have all taken it upon yourselves to try to end the world every year or two. I think you’ve taken that too far this time.”


	13. Death is for Other People, Not for Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter thirteen's title is from the BBC rendition of And Then There Were None.

Bartholomew was beginning to lost his grip on Heaven.

Just as the changing energies were affecting the Heaven in the Winchesters’ timeline, they were beginning to affect his as well. Every time an angel was resurrected – in his dimension or otherwise – it shook Heaven to its very foundation. Electrical surges were temporarily cutting the radio down, and it wasn’t uncommon for angels to be cast down to Earth at random; every time Heaven got another shock wave, it weakened a little bit more, and it was beginning to fall apart entirely. Although he had kept things tight and controlled for the last few months, no one could have anticipated he’d have this thrown at him.

The one thing he had going for him was that angels’ powers were, like in the other Heaven, growing stronger as celestial energy rose. When an angel was forced out of Heaven, there was a slightly higher chance each time that they would survive. Some were even surviving and keeping their wings intact.

Plus, as it were, he hadn’t heard from Castiel~ and Gabriel yet. He hadn’t expected them to return immediately, but, given they knew who they needed to talk to, he hadn’t expected them to return so slowly either.

He was trying to keep a lid on things to the best of his ability, but there was only so much that could be done; hell, he wasn’t an archangel – or even a seraph; he was just a simple angel. Other than their intrinsic tendency to fall in line behind whomever took the reins, there was nothing he could really do or threaten that would ensure the angels would back his plays. They continued to do so, presumably as a good faith measure in thanks for his successes thus far, but, as bad as things had gotten in Heaven under prior leadership, nothing to this magnitude of catastrophe had ever happened before. It was putting him, and Rachael, his second-hand, at unease.

They discussed trying to go over to the other timeline themselves to find Castiel~ and Gabriel, but, as they had no access to archangel grace, that was quickly scrapped. They’d tried sending word over to Castiel~, but they hadn’t heard back. As far as they knew, it might not have even gone out. The radio was under constant duress these days; everyone was aflutter with things to say, but the frequency itself was weakened already. Together, it was making angel radio just about unusable more often than it was functional.

When Farrah sent out the warning at Michael’s behest, it came as a surprise to everyone in her timeline. Half the angels assumed she was dead, and the other half assumed that she’d never have anything to do with them again even if she lived. Not to mention the fact that hearing someone be able to send out a message longer than a word or two was beginning to become a rarity. She had gotten lucky; the rest of the angels had been stunned into silence hearing her voice, so she had the radio at its least encumbered.

Bartholomew was pacing, as angels were so apt, in Heaven’s main command office and talking with Rachael about Heaven’s affairs when they got the message. He received communiqué with incredible frequency, so he was accustomed to hearing just about everything, but the sound of Farrah’s voice crackling over the radio – quiet and strained and hazy, as if she had to fight to get the transmission to go through – stopped him in his tracks. Rachael’s eyes widened, both with excitement and fear, and neither she nor Bartholomew took eyes off each other, moved, or even really breathed until Farrah had said all she needed to.

Her message had started with a deep breath to brace herself. It took considerable energy for her to send anything interdimensionally – and that was without the system being in near constant disarray. “I’m not sure who all is out there,” she began. “I’m not sure if anyone will even remember who I am. Perhaps things have moved on. That’d be best, anyway.”

She paused, noticing the complete silence that had settled over the airwaves. Her voice was as brittle and gentle as possible, though she had to use a fair amount of force just to make it audible.

“I know it’s been a very long time,” she had started, wanting to calm the waters if necessary. She wasn’t quite sure where the current Heaven stood with respect to her. “I wouldn’t be interfering with your operations if the situation weren’t dire.”

She took another pause.

“Angels are being resurrected. Angels and demons alike. And I know that in some ways this may seem like a wonderful thing, but it isn’t. It’s chaotic. It’s unpredictable. It’s precarious.

“For context, allow me to fill in the blanks for you. Whenever we die, we are sent to a void. It’s our own, and we live there eternally, isolated from Earth and from our other fallen siblings. That’s how it’s been for eons now. However, recently, for reasons I will not elaborate on for time’s sake, it’s been compromised. The matrix of voids is caving in on itself; voids are coming together. That is what’s causing the resurrections.

“I know this for a fact. I was there. I got out. A whole dimension was falling apart around me, and I got out.

“It’s come to my attention that this is in part because the lines between our dimension and another have been blurred. The door has been opened too many times. We can’t close it as it needs to be.

“Bartholomew, I know you’re in charge now. If you’re hearing this, you cannot allow more dimensional travelling to occur. It’s too much of a risk until we can work out a solution to this – if such a thing exists.

“Unless we can properly realign the multiverse, things are only going to get worse. Michael is at the head of Heaven in the other timeline, and he’s made it clear there have been issues as of late with regards to the radio. I’m sure it’ll continue to worsen from here as the problem persists.

“I’m wishing you all well. We all know it never should have gone this way. Know that I and my team are working around the clock to come up with something – _anything_ – that can be done to make things right again.”

She took yet another pause. The other angels’ silence was becoming palpable to her, and it weighed on her chest like a ton of bricks.

“Thank you all for your undivided attention. I do wish that I could have revisited everyone under less complicated circumstances.”

Even after it was clear she wasn’t going to continue, Rachael, Bartholomew, and the rest of the angels on that side kept quiet as if they were expecting her to pick back up. A few moments passed before Bartholomew dared to move, folding his arms across his chest and taking a seat at the desk chair, gathering his thoughts.

“I cannot _believe_ we just got word from Farrah,” Rachael said, the first one to break the silence in the office. She, too, walked over to the desk, but she stayed on her feet. Her tone and movements were excited despite the content of Farrah’s message. “I’ve missed her a lot. We were so close, and then she just… vanished.”

“She did, yes.”

“I hope she’s doing well, wherever she is.”

“Forgive me, Rachael, but I’d wager she’s not doing too well considering she just informed us reality is collapsing and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“She didn’t say that,” Rachael dissented, shaking her head. “She said it’s possible, but she’s working on a way to stop it.”

“She said she doesn’t think it will pan out, Rachael.”

“She said she’s working on it. She’s crafty. I have faith in her ability to get us out of this,” Rachael insisted.

“And if she can’t?”

“She’s too stubborn to let that happen.”

“You were friends,” Bartholomew acknowledged. “I understand why you’re so adamant she’ll do everything she can. But we need to be more realistic.”

“I am being realistic. If there’s anyone I trust to find a way out of a problem this huge, it would be her. No question.”

“Rachael, I truly want to have as much capacity for faith as you do,” Bartholomew scoffed, shaking his head.

“I balance you out, I guess,” she suggested with a shrug.

Bartholomew got to his feet. “We’re not going to let Farrah and whoever she’s roped into helping her go it alone.”

Rachael narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to help her. I know where she is, Rachael. She’s in that other dimension. I’m sure they’re working tirelessly in Heaven on their end to get things back in order, so we’re going to extend the same courtesy. Maybe if all of the angels in existence – from our side _and_ theirs – band together, someone will find something that works. And we won’t have to put all of the pressure to succeed on one angel, regardless of how capable she may be.”

Rachael nodded. “I’d like that,” she said. “But how are we supposed to know what’s already being done? And how are they supposed to know we’re helping?”

Bartholomew let his expression become slightly less tense, although he was still stiff overall as resumed his pacing. “We can communicate with them, as it happens,” he said. “If we can get the angels to limit any use of the radio to communication that is absolutely necessary for all of us to be privy to, then we should have a good enough line to talk with Farrah.”

“Then, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to do most of the talking,” Rachael said, bringing her hands to a low prayer position. “It’s been ages since we’ve spoken.”

“Be my guest, Rachael,” Bartholomew granted, extending his hands toward her. He brought them back in to his chest as he added, “There aren’t many other people I’d trust to stay off of her bad side anyway,” he teased.

Rachael gave him a smile. “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m going to lock down Heaven,” he said calmly, stopping his pacing again. “I know we still have some cast-out siblings who haven’t made it back, but we can’t risk the population fluctuating too much.”

“You think that has an effect?”

“Nothing’s certain,” he admitted. “But even if angels coming and going doesn’t continue to erode Heaven’s resilience, it can’t hurt to limit the number of variables. If I keep Heaven under lockdown, it will allow us to know who’s here and who isn’t.”

“Do you think it could help stop the evictions?”

“Frankly, no. I don’t.”

She looked to her hands. “It’s a tough call,” she replied. “But you’re right. The more control we can have, the better.”

He gave her a nod.

“I’ll try to reach Farrah in the meantime,” she added. “Her voice sounded so strained coming in; not sure how effectively we’ll be able to talk.”

“I noticed as much,” he said. “I’ll let everyone know to keep our frequency clear immediately. Hopefully that should give the two of you a strong line.”

“What do you think happens if this doesn’t work?”

“I thought you were the one with the eternal, unwavering faith in Farrah’s ability to find a solution.”

“I am. And I genuinely do think we will, Bartholomew, I do. But, in all honesty, I have to admit that part of the reason I’m so sure it’ll all work out in the end is because I don’t know what happens if it doesn’t.”

“I really wish I knew any better than you do, Rachael. But I’m afraid we’re all working blind on this one.”


	14. How Small You Are for Such a Great Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fourteen's title is pulled from BBC's Merlin. Going full tumblr on this one.

“Well, if we’re getting one good thing out of all this, it’s that I have an opportunity to chat with my good friend Rachael all the time,” Farrah said as she greeted Mary and Sam in the kitchen for breakfast a few days later. “I haven’t seen her since before I met you lot.”

“You’re in contact with your homeland?” Mary asked. “Regularly? Can you even do that?”

“Clearly I can do it,” Farrah said with a light laugh as she joined them at the table. She refilled each of their coffees for them. “It’s a tad difficult though, but it’s been getting better. Apparently Bartholomew’s limiting the traffic on the airwaves. They’re having some technical difficulties as a result of all these power surges. It’s short-circuiting Heaven.”

“That can happen?” Sam asked.

“Do you people just assume I’m lying? Yes, it can happen. Obviously it can happen, Sam. It _is_ happening. Doesn’t get much clearer than that.”

“Morning,” Dean said gruffly as he walked into the kitchen.

“Coffee’s here,” Farrah informed, holding up the pot.

“How’d you guess?” he asked, shuffling over to the table after he grabbed himself a mug. He sat down across from her and filled his mug as much as he could.

“You’re not much of a morning person. I know there have been some changes around here since I’ve come back, but that’s not one of them.”

He laughed shortly and took a sip of his drink.

“I know this might seem a little out-of-touch, but would any of you be up to go for a werewolf hunt?” Mary asked the group, looking up from her phone.

“A what?” Sam said with a chuckle. “Now?”

Mary shrugged. “Why not? A friend of mine said he’s heard of one in Oklahoma. He offered to take care of it himself, but we’re a hell of a lot closer.”

“I’m in,” Dean replied.

“Dean,” Sam said, indignant.

“What, Sam? It’s a hunt.”

“Is now really the time? Don’t we have other problems?”

“There’s not much to be said for that, I’m afraid,” Farrah said. “Both Heavens are trying their damnedest to find a solution, but there’s only so much that can be done. We haven’t given it enough time yet. Besides, it’s been quiet as of late.”

“There, see,” Dean said. “We can take a day off to go deal with one werewolf.”

“Oh, sorry,” Mary interrupted. “It’s actually a pack.”

“We can take a day off to go deal with a few werewolves.”

Sam sighed. He took a second to think back to the time Dean dragged him out to Athol to take out a vampire nest while their angel comrades were on a suicide mission in Heaven. It was a solid argument in favor of his brother. “Fine,” he conceded.

“Perfect,” Farrah breathed. She stood up. “You three do that. I’m going to rally the angels and see if Michael doesn’t want us to pitch in somehow.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Mary exclaimed. She finished the glass of water she had in front of her. “It’s been awhile since the three of us have gone hunting.”

“Damn straight,” Dean scoffed. “And it’s just werewolves. Nothing dramatic.”

“Take Adam with you, if you’d be so kind,” Farrah directed, popping back into the kitchen to make her request.

“What? Why?”

“If I’m blunt, he’s something of a downer. And I think it’d do you all good to have some actual family time, yes? He’s a bit despondent.”

“That’s his trademark.”

“Maybe if you put any effort at all into building a rapport, it wouldn’t be,” Farrah suggested. “Besides, he won’t do us much good.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him,” Dean caved.

“You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” Farrah replied, though playfully and mockingly.

“He’s not going to be interested.”

“I think you’d be surprised. He’s not completely checked out, Dean. I think he’s just waiting for a proper invitation into the group.”

“You don’t know Adam.”

“It doesn’t seem like you know him much either.”

“Touché.”

Farrah gave him a smile before she left to go speak with Castiel and Elizabeth.

Dean turned his attention back to his mother and brother. “Are we actually going to drag Adam to Oklahoma?”

“You told her we would,” Mary reminded.

“And I’m not allowed to lie anymore?”

“It’ll be nice,” Mary said. “Time with the whole family.”

“Fine,” Dean conceded again.

“I’ll get him,” Sam offered, as he was the only one who’d finished his coffee. He left rather promptly and returned almost as soon as he’d gone, now accompanied.

“Apparently you want to talk to me,” Adam said as he followed Sam to the table. Mary poured him some coffee in the mug Farrah had gotten out for herself for convention’s sake. “Thank you,” he said flatly.

“Yeah. We wanted to make you an offer,” Dean said, sounding equally as emotionless as his half-brother.

Adam raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“We’re heading to Oklahoma,” Sam started, his tone more conversational than Dean’s.

“Sorry,” Adam said with a little laugh. “Why is that my problem?”

Sam shrugged. “Thought you might want to come.”

“To Oklahoma.”

“Yes.”

“With the three of you.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Adam. The angels are going to be busy with Heaven for a little while, and things have been so insane recently we thought it might be nice to get away for a few days as a family. You know, like a vacation.”

“A vacation to Oklahoma. Why?”

“Werewolves,” Dean said, now sounding a little more excited. He’d probably killed hundreds of them, but every hunt still excited him like it was his first.

Adam rolled his eyes. “You know what? I have nothing going on, so I’ll humor you. Let’s go to Oklahoma and kill a werewolf.”

“Great!” Mary exclaimed, beaming. “Eat fast, boys. I want to be out of here by noon.”

“Yes, Mom,” Dean teased.

She nudged him playfully on the shoulder. “This is going to be really nice,” she insisted before she left to prepare her overnight bags.

An hour or so later, the Winchesters (and Adam) were all packed into the Impala. Dean was driving, and Mary sat shotgun, which left Sam and Adam in the backseat together.

“You know,” Adam scoffed. “We’ve never actually done this before – gone somewhere just the four of us.”

“Almost like we’re an actual family,” Dean mocked.

When they arrived in Oklahoma, they stopped briefly at a motel so they could drop off their things and give Mary the opportunity to brief everyone. From what her friend had said, it was a small pack – three werewolves who had escaped from him a few weeks back and resurfaced in Oklahoma that month on the full moon.

“He says there should be an older woman and two men,” Mary said, reading a text. She looked up to her sons and her pseudo-son. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Sam affirmed.

The first day they spent in Oklahoma was largely just in search of the pack’s hideout. They had a description to go off of, but Mary’s friend didn’t have too many specifics. That night, after they’d narrowed it down to a few options, they decided to head back to their motel and wait the night out; the full moon cycle was over with, so they were fairly certain their werewolves wouldn’t be turning that night anyway.

They all shared one room at Mary’s request. She assumed staying all together would give Sam, Dean, and Adam more time to bond, but she wanted to be in the room with them in case things got tense – which wasn’t unlikely between Dean and Adam.

The next morning, they were up early and ready to find their werewolves. They canvassed the neighborhood until they recognized someone from Mary’s friend’s description – that was the home their targets lived in. They blended themselves into the town, assimilating as best as they could during the off-cycle and murdering their neighbors otherwise.

Night had fallen by the time they were all gathered at the werewolves’ home, ready to take them on. They were parked in front of the house, and all four stood by the trunk of the Impala as Sam and Dean gathered weapons.

“You’re sure you’re good?” Mary asked Adam after he’d been handed a shotgun loaded with silver from Sam.

Adam nodded. “Definitely,” he assured.

“He’s been hunting with us before,” Dean informed, still digging through the trunk to find some spare silver bullets. Once he did, he stood up, handed them out, and said, “Doesn’t happen often, but he can hold his own.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, sounding rather proud.

Dean nodded toward the house and closed the trunk. “Let’s go kick some ass,” he said.

With the four of them, they cleared the house in record time. Adam had paired off with Dean and Sam with Mary; the former pair took out the woman and one of the boys. Sam and Mary handled the second young man.

All-in-all, it was a clean, successful hunt, and the four were back on the road to Lebanon in the blink of an eye.

“I enjoyed that,” Adam said at some point on the ride back.

“Really?” asked Sam, a little amused. “I can never tell with you.”

“Really, it was nice,” Adam assured, the most sincere any of the others had heard him since they’d gotten him back.

“We did make a pretty bad ass team, huh?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

“It’s not that,” Adam replied.

“Alright, rude.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Adam scoffed.

“Then what do you mean?”

“We’re – really _you’re_ – always talking about trying to stop the end of the world. And it’s admirable, yeah, but I don’t know. There’s something refreshing about doing something insignificant for a change.”


	15. If We Can't Live in Peace, Then Let's Die in Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fifteen's title is a quote from American Horror Story. I'd specify which season, but I have no idea.

“Castiel,” Farrah beckoned, knocking on his door. He didn’t answer as quickly as she’d like, so she grabbed the door handle to open it just at the same time he had. Crossing her arms as he gave her a disapproving look, she smiled and said, “The Winchesters are off to Oklahoma.”

“Great,” he replied. Assuming this was her way of extending an invitation, he added, “I guess I’ll get my things.”

“No need,” she said, grabbing his shoulder as he began to turn. “We won’t be joining them this time.”

“Why not?”

“So we can give them some family bonding time with Adam,” Farrah answered with a nonchalant shrug.

“Great,” Castiel said again. “Is that all?”

“We also aren’t going to Oklahoma because we have our own things to attend to. They’re getting a much-needed break from this interdimensional chaos; we’re not. I think you, me, Elizabeth, and maybe Gabriel and your twin, should swing by Heaven and see if they could use our assistance. I feel somewhat responsible for putting them in such a tight position.”

Castiel sighed, but he nodded. “That’s fair.”

“Good. I’ll reach out to Castiel~,” she said. Realizing the potential confusion, she added, “Your alternate, I mean. I’ll try to get them to accompany us. Would you be so kind as to fetch Elizabeth for us?” she asked.

He nodded again. “Sure,” he said, gently pushing by her to get through to door and head over to Elizabeth’s room.

Elizabeth came to the door before he’d even knocked, having heard some of his conversation through the walls. “Farrah wants something,” she said. “I could hear her talking. Of course she wants something.”

“She wants us to go to Heaven,” he informed.

“Of course she does. It was only a matter of time before she dragged us up there for something,” Elizabeth chuckled.

“You’re not funny,” Farrah replied. She walked a little farther down the hall to continue trying to reach Castiel~ over the airwaves. “Come on, you prick,” she said. “I don’t have a phone number or anything, so you need to answer me the old way.”

A few seconds passed and she heard from Rachael, who, being the only other person active on that dimension’s radio, decided to pitch in. “You’re looking for Castiel~?”

“Yes, Rachael,” Farrah affirmed. “He’s over here, but I think he’s ignoring me. We aren’t very good friends.”

“He’ll listen to Bartholomew.”

“Good. Get that bastard to send him up to Heaven, would you? Some of us celestials on Earth are taking a trip there to have a chat with Michael about what’s being done on our end. I’m hoping we can coordinate.”

She had just gotten that transmission out when Castiel~ and Gabriel appeared in the hallway. Sam, who had gone to fetch Adam, brushed by them without a word as he and his half-brother went back to the kitchen to discuss the Oklahoma trip. “Nice to see you too,” Castiel~ called after him. “He’s being a bit of a dick, huh?”

“Did you catch everything or do I need to go over it again?” Farrah asked, ignoring his comment about Sam.

“We’re going to Heaven. I get it. It’s not that complicated.”

“Wonderful,” she breathed. She came back towards Castiel and Elizabeth to center herself more within the group. “Let’s head up, then.”

Farrah grabbed both Castiel and Elizabeth by the shoulder to fly them up with her; Gabriel and Castiel~ flew themselves. Stunned by the alternate Heaven, Castiel~ took a second to look around and take in its brilliance. “A little dated for my taste, but it’ll do.”

Farrah looked over to Cas and Elizabeth. “Mind showing us where you think Michael would hang out? I never did figure out how to navigate this place.”

Elizabeth nodded, and together the group walked through the grand silver hallways with her and Castiel at the front of the group. “You might have an easier time navigating if you didn’t always land in these damn personal Heavens, Farrah.”

“So sue me. It’s the one part of this place with a layout I understand. I’m not even sure I’d be able to reliably fly anywhere else up here if I tried.”

Castiel scoffed. “Is it really laid out that much differently than yours?”

“Yes,” both Farrah and Castiel~ said in unison.

“Did I not show you any of our Heaven when I took you to the prison?” Castiel~ asked, somewhat playful.

Cas was less amused. “No.”

“You should have asked for the tour, Cassie. It’s really lovely over there. Nice and wide open and… manageable.”

“Hate to agree with him, but if he’s right, he’s right,” Farrah conceded. “This place is so closed off. Why can’t different places be separated by gardens instead of by these tight hallways? I feel claustrophobic.”

“Take it up with Michael,” Elizabeth directed.

“Maybe I will,” Farrah teased.

A minute or so later, they arrived at Michael’s office. They decided to send Gabriel in first to test the waters.

“Hey, Mike,” he said upon entry.

Michael was shaken by his brother’s sudden entrance, but he relaxed rather quickly. “Brother,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“A few friends and I thought we’d see what was going on around here,” Gabriel replied. Michael’s office looked very similar to Bartholomew’s, with its grand desk in the center of the room. He took a seat in front of it, opposite Michael.

“I sent a few angels down to Hell to talk with our brother and see if there are still future prophets there. I’d have gone myself, but I wanted to keep an eye on the place.”

“Right. I’m not gonna ask why the prophets are in Hell. The whole world really fell apart once I died; I’m just going with it now.”

“The world fell apart after the Winchesters sent me to the Cage with Lucifer,” Michael scoffed, though his tone was friendly.

“And that was pretty soon after I died. It’s close enough.”

Michael shook his head, smiling. “You said you came here with some friends?”

“Oh, right. They didn’t think it would be smart to surprise you all at once, so it’s just me right now.”

“Get them,” Michael instructed. “I already know who it’s going to be.”

Gabriel chuckled to himself, getting up to open the door. “Come on in,” he told the others, taking a step back from the doorway to let them in.

“I’m so surprised,” Michael said flatly as Farrah, Elizabeth, and Cas entered the office. Once Castiel~ walked in, Michael’s brows furrowed. “Alright, I _am_ surprised.”

“This is Castiel~,” Gabriel introduced. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

“Yes,” Michael said with a calm nod. “I knew you were over here. I didn’t think you’d be joining us.”

“Your brother and I are best friends,” Castiel~ said, gesturing toward Gabriel.

“Bit of a reach, but I’ll let it go. No one else likes you, so I guess that makes me your best friend by default,” Gabriel teased.

Michael arched an eyebrow. “You all decided you’d just stop by for a status update, then?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“We were curious about what was being done on this end to find a solution,” Farrah said. “I’m in rather frequent contact with my home dimension, and they’re working to find one as well. I figured if I came here, all of us could collaborate.”

“Why the party?” Michael asked, gesturing at her entourage.

“I thought maybe they could offer ideas.”

“We’re not always useless, Michael,” Gabriel teased.

Farrah smiled a little. “See? It’s a bit of an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation. We thought you’d appreciate a few extra pairs.”

Michael gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. He had several, as he was used to having multiple angels at his desk at any given time due to the vast majority of them being in Heaven around the clock. “Have a seat,” he offered.

The group obliged and sat opposite him.

“So how does this work?” he asked.

“Well, whatever anyone comes up with, I’ll float the idea over my dimension’s radio. Bartholomew’s asked everyone over there to limit their usage of it so my lovely friend Rachael and I could talk regularly. The two of us decided it would be good if I touched base up here so both Heavens could work on separate theories and maybe reduce the redundancy.”

“Castiel and I feel kind of obligated to be here,” Elizabeth admitted. “We’re not _not_ the reason this is happening.”

“Self-aware as always, Castiel,” Gabriel said, holding out his hand expecting a high five from Cas that was left hanging. He pulled his hand back in. “Alright. Rude. Not gonna lie, that kind of hurts.”

“Do you know what Bartholomew is having the angels on your side do, Farrah?” Michael asked, inclining his chin.

She nodded. “Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing. Yet. They don’t have any idea where to begin.”

“So we’re all on the same page, then. All I’ve done, like I told Gabriel, is sent some angels to see if any of the prophets are left in Hell.”

“To do what?” Castiel asked.

“To maybe translate the tablets and see if any of this is mentioned,” Michael said, sounding a little impatient. “It’d be much more efficient if we had the scribe here, but you all had to go and get him killed.”

“He got himself killed. And who knows? Maybe he’ll magically resurrect.”

“If it’s Metatron you’re looking for, my side can help,” Farrah interjected, noticing the conversation was growing hostile. “He’s alive over there.”

Michael extended his arms toward her as a silent prompt.

She got to her feet and stood behind her chair, putting her hands on the back of it and resting her weight on them as she spoke under her breath. She was able to get transmissions out to them much easier now than she had been the first time; she wasn’t sure whether it was due to the dimensional boundaries continuing to falter or to the fact that the radio was less encumbered, but she hoped it was the latter. “Rachael,” she said. “I’m with Michael. Do us a favor and have someone fetch Metatron. We all need to talk about this as a team.”


	16. No Wonder You Won't Touch a Bible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter sixteen gets its title from a Peaky Blinders quote.

“You know, the last time I was up here, Hannah said Heaven might need me down the road. I didn’t think _you’d_ be the one in charge, though,” Metatron scoffed upon his arrival in Heaven. “This place just cannot commit to a leader, can it?” He sat at the desk opposite Bartholomew, with Rachael standing over his chair the way Farrah was standing over her own, such that the scenes in both Heavens were nearly mirrors of one another.

“We’re well beyond that conversation, Metatron,” Bartholomew sighed. “You’re caught up. You know about these angel resurrections.”

“Of course I know about the angel resurrections.”

“The other dimension’s Michael is convinced it’s because of too much interdimensional travel,” Rachael informed.

“Right, and I told Raphael and Lucifer not to add on. And what did they do?”

“We get it, Metatron. You were right.”

“I don’t think anyone appreciates how often that’s the case.”

“If you could lend everyone a hand—”

“Who’s ‘everyone’?”

“Literally everyone, Metatron. The entire populations of two dimensions rest on things not falling apart on us. But, small-scale, it’s me, Bartholomew, and a few people in the other timeline.”

“You’re communicating interdimensionally? I’m impressed. How do you pull something like that off?”

“Farrah’s over there. She’s still connected to our airwaves. Anyway, we were hoping you remembered—”

“Farrah. Of course Farrah has something to do with this. You know, I never told anyone, but I always figured she’d go causing problems.”

“Look at you. Two for two. Congratulations. Now, stop getting sidetracked. You warned Lucifer and Raphael about travelling interdimensionally being dangerous. How did you know?”

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t _my_ warning, per se. I got it from God. The few times He wrote about how to make it happen, He also made sure to be very clear about how bad of an idea it was. So I was just passing that along.”

“Right. How specific was He?”

“As specific as God ever is.”

“So not at all specific,” Bartholomew extrapolated.

“Not at all specific,” confirmed Metatron.

“Can you tell us what He _did_ say?” asked Rachael.

“Sure. He said the multi-verse was a delicate design, like a house of—”

“A house of cards. Great. Everyone’s heard that line before.”

“Well, those were His words, so of course that’s the common simile. But anyway, He said that it’s fragile and its balance was both crucial and incredibly precarious. No real elaboration on that, because of course not. It’s God. And then He said that He would explain how to cross dimensions should it become absolutely necessary but that He didn’t foresee it being something that got used. It’s meant to be a backup.”

“Backup?”

“The theory is that if something should go wrong in one world – to the point that things absolutely cannot be reversed, then other dimensions can be accessed. There are two in play that have any actual life, unless you count the empty, which He does not. And there are a few out there that are similar in design to this place but without a population. So, hypothetically, if we royally screwed this place up, then we should be able to flee there.”

“Is that on the table now?”

“Can’t say for sure.”

“Give me a second to consult with Farrah,” Rachael said, taking a few steps back to isolate herself. Muttering, so she could feel like she was maintaining some level of privacy, she said, “We’re talking with Metatron now.”

“What did he say?” asked Farrah.

“There could be backup dimensions we can access as a refuge.”

“There could be _what_?”

“But I’m going to press him for more information about it. I’m not sure how much he knows about our current issue, and he also hasn’t been very helpful beyond that.”

“Great. Well, we don’t have a scribe to talk to here, so we’re drawing blanks for the time being. If you could get something more substantial out of him, it’d be greatly appreciated.”

“We’re going to do everything we can, Farrah,” Rachael assured. She was about to resume her position standing behind Metatron’s chair, but quickly decided to add, “It’s been so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours as well. Wish it were for a better reason, though.”

“Alright. So keep going,” she said to Metatron. “What all do you know about these safety dimensions?”

“Not a lot. I know they exist, and I know they’re empty. They also require different spellwork to access.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, He made it complicated like that. Part of the intricacy of the system, I guess. It takes a different kind of magic to get to the voids from here than it does to get from void to void. Void to void is the same spellwork as it is from here to the place Lucifer and Raphael went. And here to the spare dimensions is another type of spellwork of its own. It’s just because they’re all different kinds of dimensions whereas here and the alternate timeline are the same general concept. If that tracks,” Metatron explained, sitting up straighter.

“There’s no need for this to be this convoluted, but yes, it tracks.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy regardless. That’s why the spellwork is only accessible through the tablets. Or through me, I guess, but I only know it from the tablets.”

“What? God didn’t anticipate Lucifer having a son who could open dimensional rifts when He wrote the tablets?”

“No, Rachael. He didn’t.”

“Would the fact that these issues are cross-dimensional affect this at all?” asked Bartholomew, concerned.

Metatron narrowed his eyes. “It would depend, I think.”

“Well, it all started with things going wrong in the voids that make the empty,” Rachael informed coolly.

“Wrong?”

“I’m not getting into the details, but essentially there was some… void hopping going on.”

“Of course there was. We can’t just leave the angel resurrections to God, right?”

“Anyway, it went wrong. The tears—”

“Whoever it was wasn’t God, so they didn’t close the door properly. No one can. It’s why He advises against it.”

“Right. And so they’re basically merging now.”

“That’s not good.”

“And it’s why we’re having all these weird resurrections. For both angels and demons. But the real problem is that that’s not everything.”

“It’s bleeding into this dimension too, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. You usually have your radio turned off, so maybe you don’t know. But our frequency and the frequency in the other Heaven are different to keep the lines from crossing. Well, they’re crossing now.”

“So what? We’re merging with them?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. No one can say for sure.”

“See, the issue is that I can’t say for certain if those safety net dimensions are immune to this then.”

“What do you know?”

“If this is pretty much limited to the voids, then the safeties should be preserved. It’s a bit of a risk, given the state of things, to try opening more doors, but we might have to take it since these resurrections are putting a strain here.”

“So you think it’ll work?”

“The problem is that it sounds like those merging effects are happening here, which worries me because it might mean this isn’t limited to just one type of dimension.”

“So what? If we go down, our backups could go with us?”

“If I’m understanding the situation right, then yes.”

“That’s cool. That’s really cool.”

“I told you all it was delicate.”

Rachael rolled her eyes and took a step back again to talk with Farrah. “Good news and bad news,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Metatron’s convinced that there’s a chance the backups might work. He said that our dimensions, those dimensions, and the voids represent three different _kinds_ of dimensions, so travelling between them all is harder.”

“That’s all a bit complicated for my taste, but it sounds like something Father would do, so go on.”

“There’s special spellwork we can use to get over there. The only concern would be that the voids _are_ affecting us.”

“You’re saying we could be taking the whole bloody multi-verse down with us?”

“Exactly.”

“Does he think there’s anything at all we could do to reverse this?”

“I get the feeling he’s only bringing these dimensions up as a lest resort, so no. I doubt he thinks there’s another way out.”

“Great. What happens if it doesn’t work then?”

“I’ll ask.” Rachael looked up and yelled over to Metatron. “Hey, what do you think happens if this takes those dimensions out with us? If you had to guess.”

“We all die, Rachael. As in ceasing to exist,” Metatron scoffed. “There’s no coming back from that. He didn’t make backup backups.”

“Great, yeah, I figured. Just checking.” Going back to her muttering, she told Farrah, “Yeah, we’re gonna need this plan to work.”


	17. God's Dead Because of Men Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seventeen's title comes from the one-season show Damnation.

Hell was, of course, not immune to everything that was going on. And, generally speaking, no one was very fond of the fact that other demons were being brought back. As it stood, all of the demons being resurrected were either considered by the rest of Hell to be insignificant, like Acacia; annoying, like Astaroth, who was now a non-issue anyway; or downright problematic, like Ruby – someone the Winchesters hadn’t found out was back yet.

She and Lilith, conveniently enough for the two of them, had found each other in one of the larger voids, and together they fought their way out when that one began to collapse as well. They were keeping a low profile; Lucifer being in charge suited them, so they didn’t feel the need to act up. Still, Hell wasn’t excited to have them back. They had gotten on fine without them.

Fluctuating celestial energy on Earth and in Heaven didn’t only affect the realm of the angels – it took a toll on Hell likewise. The stronger Heaven grew, the more it weakened Hell; such was built the balance of the universe. It was making it difficult for demons to come and go as normal. While angels’ power was increasing beyond its usual limits, Hell was finding itself in the reverse position, and they weren’t pleased.

The extra demons they were getting from these resurrections helped to counteract the effect to an extent, which was the only reason people like Acacia or Lilith or Ruby were still being kept around despite the consensus being against them.

Bela, still Lucifer’s head of all things crossroads, was having a hard time keeping up with all of the issues they were having. Most demons had no need to leave Hell anymore now that Lucifer had made it clear they were to leave Earth be. They hung around and tortured souls pretty constantly, so they weren’t too terribly affected by the rising difficulties leaving Hell presented in the face of the universe’s mounting celestial character.

The same, naturally, could not be said for the crossroads.

Crossroads demons not only needed to be able to get themselves to Earth in order to answer summons, but they also needed to get themselves and at least one hellhound to Earth in order to close out decades. It was hard enough for one demon to find the strength to counteract the angelic energy on Earth – let alone power sufficient to take a hellhound along.

Not only that, but the more the balance favored Heaven, the weaker the hellhounds themselves got. They took much longer to cause the same damage, and crossroads demons were growing impatient. When Bela had insisted Lucifer keep her around to manage the crossroads, she could have never anticipated a problem large enough to effectively wipe out the industry.

Lucifer himself, being celestial, did experience a power increase. It did little good for Hell, however, as he wasn’t the one who needed it.

The other major toll a weakened Hell was taking on the world was the general weakening of witchcraft. Largely based in demonic energy, witchcraft was at its strongest on Earth when Hell was at its strongest. It needed to feed off the power of Hell. If that was waning, then there wasn’t a generator for the majority of Earth’s witchcraft. This, of course, further stunted the crossroads demons’ ability to get anything done; people needed access to this brand of witchcraft to summon a crossroads demon in the first place, and when they did find the power necessary to cast the spell, it took much longer than normal for them to have their call answered.

Things needed to change, clearly.

Hell in Farrah’s timeline fared somewhat differently. Their Heaven, like this one, was increasing in strength, but not nearly as rapidly. By chance, more angel resurrections were occurring on the Winchesters’ native end than on hers, so, despite the shock waves in that dimension being catastrophic, they were balanced out much more easily.

Over here, Heaven was simply getting ahead faster than Hell could keep up. Demon resurrection had no tangible increase on Hell’s material strength; after all, the system was designed such that demon populations increased indefinitely while angel ones remained more constant – what was happening now was almost akin to a reversal. Humans experienced this basic celestial principle in the form of the universe favoring increased entropy over order.

The dimensional collapse was, quite literally, disturbing the laws of thermodynamics.

Lucifer and Michael had yet to actually be in contact about any of this. Independently, they were each so caught up in their own kingdom’s drama that they hadn’t found a time to meet with one another about it all.

The main thing Hell had going for it was that it didn’t experience the same shock waves Heaven did. Angels had a net increase in power, but that assumed they were able to make it out of the initial hit without significant damage. When another angel was brought back and the celestial energy rose, Hell had a gradual drop in their total strength as Heaven’s power fluctuated. For angels, their strength would dip drastically on impact and then skyrocket from there.

At the very least, everyone knew that this was all a finite problem. After all, there was a limited number of angels; once they had been created, there weren’t _more_ being created. The second the last angel was resurrected, all of these fluctuations would stop, and, eventually, Hell would create enough demons that the very minimal effect they had would be enough to balance out the massive tilt toward celestial energy.

The problem with waiting it out until Heaven and Hell reached an equilibrium again was simply that they weren’t sure they’d make it that long. Once the final angel came back, that put Heaven at its maximum – something it hadn’t reached since the beginning of time. It would take ages upon ages upon ages for the demons to be able to counteract that.

Insulated as Hell was, they hadn’t had much contact with anyone outside of it, so they couldn’t say for sure what was going on. The best they had was the intel they received from demons who had come back, and they were equally as confused as the rest of them.

Lucifer, at that point, found himself doing almost nothing except talking with Bela or Ruby or Lilith; Bela always had some new problem to bring to his attention concerning the crossroads' declining efficiency, and Lilith, who he did still trust, knew more about the situation than most. Ruby often tagged along because she and Lilith were inseparable.

It hadn’t occurred to him to try and use Jack’s power to give Hell a boost until Lilith made an off-hand comment that sparked the idea.

“What we need is to find a way to increase our strength by the same amount an angel increases theirs,” Lilith said. “Give us something of a celestial bonus.”

“Celestial? This is Hell,” he replied, irritated. “We don’t get celestial benefits down here. Things haven’t changed _that_ much since you died.”

“You’re here,” she countered. “I’m willing to wager much of the power we _do_ have comes from you getting stronger when celestials get stronger.”

“You want us to start dragging angels to Hell, then?”

“I don’t think that’d work. You’re… spiritually connected to Hell; they aren’t. What we _need_ is a genuine boost of celestial-grade energy down here that’s got some higher, godly connection to us. Like you. We need another you.”

“Like my son.”

“Like your what?”

“What if I told you I had a child?”

“I’d say you lied when you said things haven’t changed that much since I died.”

“He’s a Nephilim. A Nephilim powerful enough to tear holes into spacetime. And since he’s _mine_ , maybe he’ll do. His grace is a product of my own.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try. We need anything we can get.”

“Problem is he’s on Earth.”

“Can’t you communicate with him? You angels all have a little radio system, don’t you?”

“Nah. The line’s dark. He must have cut it off.”

“So then go get him yourself.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“The thing is, I’m the strongest energy source in Hell right now. I feel like if I leave, Hell might literally shut down or something.”

“Fair point. So we send up a demon.”

“Problem is Bela keeps telling me every damn day that crossroads demons are struggling a lot trying to get to Earth nowadays.”

“They still come and go all the time. I’m sure someone can make it.”

“Lilith, they’re being _summoned_ out of Hell and barely making it there. We have to ride this out until someone calls for one.”

“That shouldn’t be too long.”

“Tough to say. Witchcraft itself is weakening, so they aren’t getting too many calls right now. At least not ones that come through.”

“So what, then? We sit and wait around to see what happens?”

“Lucifer,” said one of the other demons as he entered the throne room. “I’ve been watching the door, and there are some things you… might want to be aware of.”

“The door? Hell has a door? To _where_?”

“Earth,” answered the demon shortly.

“Since when does Hell just have a door to Earth?” asked Lilith.

“We use it to let in the angels.”

“So we don’t just have _a_ door, then. We have a completely unnecessary door.”

“We might not for long,” the other demon said, his tone growing more impatient. “It’s, like, _impossible_ to open now. Takes about four of us if we’re lucky.”

“So why are you trying to open it?” asked Lucifer.

“There were angels sent here to visit you. A few demons are still back at the door trying to let them in. I came to warn you both that they’re here and that the damn door won’t open.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and stood up, gesturing to the entrance to his throne room. “Let’s go, then.”

The demon nodded, and he and Lucifer left a slightly perplexed Lilith standing alone in the throne room.

Upon arrival at the door, Lucifer saw about six demons collectively trying to pull it open. He sighed and said, “Move,” to which they all instantly obliged. At a snap of his fingers, the three angels Michael had sent were inside. “What?”

“Michael sent us,” said the one on the left, straightening himself out.

“I figured. Why?”

“We were supposed to see if there were still prophets in Hell.”

“Prophets in Hell? Why would we have prophets in Hell?”

“Before you came—”

“I freed them all. Michael didn’t know?”

“Obviously not,” said the angel on the right, crossing her arms.

“Well, then, tell him. Anything else? We’re busy.”

“Yes,” said the angel who had spoken first. “We were supposed to tell you that Michael wishes to talk to you sometime about what’s going on.”

“He can come whenever. I’m not leaving Hell until I know the damn place won’t fall down the second I leave.”

“Right, right. Of course.”

Lucifer had no response at first other than to snap the angels back outside. When he saw the angels turn to leave, he yelled through the door, “Tell the Winchesters to summon a crossroads demon, would you? And tell them it’s urgent.”

The angels were confused, but one of them nodded. Lucifer returned to his throne room, leaving the seven demons with the door.

“Everything alright?” asked Lilith upon his arrival.

“Well, the fate of Hell rests on the Winchesters doing what I say, so things are looking pretty rough.”


	18. Thank You for Having the Good Sense to Be Frightened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled the quote for chapter eighteen's title from The Vampire Diaries.

A few days later, the angels Lucifer sent to instruct the Winchesters to summon a crossroads demon had come and gone. The Winchesters and company fully intended to make good on that, but they had yet to make it happen.

“Have they even tried?” he asked Bela heatedly.

“No,” she said.

“Of course they haven’t. I _told_ those angels to let them know how goddamn important it was for them to do this.”

“Well, apparently Hell’s ability to function doesn’t concern the Winchesters too much. I can’t say I’m that surprised.”

“The good news is, it hasn’t gotten any harder to go up to Earth recently,” a crossroads demon interjected. Lucifer had come to the crossroads’ operational headquarters, and Bela hadn’t bothered sending her demons out in case they had something useful to add.

“He’s right,” Bela confirmed. “Hell, maybe if we try hard enough, we could just send someone up without being summoned.”

“Are you sure?” Lucifer scoffed. “You were all insistent that it was impossible.”

“We can give it another shot. What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, we’ve never tried it with you before. Maybe your celestial energy will give us the power boost we need.”

“Why not?” he sighed. He looked around at the group of crossroads demons in the room with them, unconvinced. “Who do we choose? No one’s really… remarkable.”

“I’ll go,” Acacia volunteered, coming in just in time to understand what was happening.

Lucifer looked her over and shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he asked again. “Not like there’s a better option.”

“I take that as a compliment,” she said, approaching him and Bela. “If the Winchesters will listen to any of us, it’s me,” she assured.

“Whatever you say. Just make sure they listen to you better than they did those damn angels,” he directed.

“We’ve got something of a history.”

“Honey, they’re the Winchesters, and you’re a demon,” Bela said coolly. “Of course you all have a history.”

Outside of Hell, the situation looked nothing at all like it had previously. The shift had set in a few days prior, around the time the angels had shown up in Hell to begin with. Not that anyone on Earth could perceive it, but at that time, the circumstances regarding the empty were set to change drastically. There were only a handful of separate voids left by then, and once they merged into one, there was really no telling what would happen – but it would be different. The mechanism for angels and demons to either escape or be ejected from the afterlife would be gone.

One of the larger voids had all but stabilized itself. It only ever opened up to accept new people in; smaller ones would both bring people in if another void merged with them and send them out once they themselves collapsed. The inhabitants of this void had generally resigned themselves to being stuck there, but on occasion someone would propose a grand escape through the rifts that opened up as smaller voids merged in.

It had been attempted once. A dead angel by the name of Conrad, from Farrah’s dimension, had leapt through. He had yet to be heard from, but that didn’t mean it had gone well. About half the people still in the void thought he’d made it to Earth; the rest assumed he’d eventually show up right back in the larger void – the communal void, as they referred to it.

Most people in the large void had been dead for years – even centuries; they were too focused on having company to give a damn whether they’d have another shot at a way out. And, as it happened, it was making for some bizarre interactions.

The communal void wasn’t dimension-specific; there were angels and demons there who haled from both timelines. As a result, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to cross paths with their dimensional counterpart. The two Raphaels, for instance, had a lot to talk about.

Generally, despite the problems in the voids being the main catalyst for the problems on Earth, the empty was at peace.

As it was, that void’s stability eroded the stability of the littler ones that remained, so all at once the last seven or eight tiny voids, each with about six residents, crashed into the large one. Once that happened, that was that. There was nothing else to merge. The empty evened out; the rifts all sealed up, and things seemed rather normal.

All of the voids but one, at least. There was a single, forsaken void that had no one – not a single occupant. It never had; voids were created ahead of time, and once the angel or demon destined for a given one passed, it was occupied. God had made it so complex purely to keep the entire dimensional matrix unchanging; for the most part, this plan worked. The more complicated it was to crash the multi-verse, the more durable it would be. The issue was that it created a degree of fragility in that the dizzying intricacy was too complex and labyrinthine to reconstruct in the event something _did_ go wrong enough to take it down.

This empty void was now equally as vast as the one housing all the souls, but it had been formed by the merging of the voids that hadn’t ever been occupied – the ones belonging to angels like Michael, or Lucifer, or the Metatron from Farrah’s timeline. It was because of this that it was able to hold stable despite not having the necessary population. And, interdimensionally, it was positioned precariously such that a large shift in energy from the populated void would send it hurtling towards the Earth dimensions and vice versa.

That merging of all of the remaining populated voids was exactly the propulsion it needed to fire itself towards the timelines.

It was only able to be perceived as lengthening the nights and shortening the days, lowering the temperatures – an early winter setting over both dimensions. While strange and even notable, everyone who knew there was interdimensional chaos was too distracted to realize that the changes in climate were relevant. Of course, with the nearing of the empty void, the interdimensional chaos was about to worsen. Still, as bad as the situation was getting, no one was actually aware this was happening, and the last merge being completed stopped the angel resurrections – to the relief of Lucifer in the Winchesters’ timeline and Bartholomew in Farrah’s.

“Good news, Rachael,” Bartholomew said, standing in front of a window in his office and looking down at Earth, watching the hazy winter conditions settle. “There haven’t been any resurrections for awhile. I think the shock waves might be through.”

“About time. I don’t know how we’d have been able to take another crash,” she scoffed. “There’s a lot of Heaven that’s not functional anymore.”

“So we have some repairs to do. That’s fine. Repairs are what we’ve been doing on Earth the whole time I’ve had the crown; why not expand that to Heaven?”

“Right. So are we lifting the lockdown, then? I think we should probably let the fallen angels come back. Especially if we’re going to be trying to put the place back together, you know; that’ll be a huge task. We’ll need some help to—”

“Rachael, I know. Yes, I’m going to lift the lockdown.”

“Great! Because I’ve been hearing a _lot_ of complaints about it.”

“Of course,” Bartholomew scoffed.

“The other Heaven didn’t have it as bad,” Rachael informed. “Not sure why, but Farrah said their shock waves weren’t literally casting angels out. I wonder if that means they’re stronger? Or maybe we did something wrong.”

“I don’t know, Rachael. I don’t have all the answers.”

“I wish you did.”

“So do I,” he exclaimed. “You know who _did_ have the answers? God. Father would know. It’d be nice of the bastard to swing by.”

“Maybe He will.”

That actually got Bartholomew to laugh. “ _Lord_ , Rachael. Be a little more naïve, would you? ‘Maybe He will.’”

“No need to be rude about it.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’ll just… give you a moment to yourself, then,” she said.

“Yes, thank you. Do that.”

Rachael decided to fly down to Earth for the first time since Gabriel had shown up. It was holding up nicely; despite all the problems in Heaven and Hell, Earth was still peaceful.

As she was walking through a grassy meadow, she decided to start up a conversation with Farrah and see if things had levelled off over there as much as they had in her timeline. “Farrah?” she beckoned. “Got a minute?”

“Always,” was the response.

“I’m on Earth. Haven’t been here in a little while, but it’s nice. It’s doing well.”

“Good. At least something’s stable. We’re doing alright on Earth here as well, but Heaven keeps getting stronger and stronger. Also, I think these frequencies are just about the same now, because the feedback I get sometimes is _absurd_.”

“Heaven’s still getting stronger there?”

“You know, it’s bizarre, actually. A few nights ago, there was this massive influx in resurrections, and since then it’s been nothing.”

“Same here.”

“Do you think maybe this whole mess has sorted itself out?”

“We can’t say for sure.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Bartholomew is open to allowing our kind back into Heaven.”

“Now? And he’s sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Do you think it’s not? Farrah, I’m the one who suggested he reopen; if it’s a bad idea—”

“Relax, Rachael. I just mean that it seems very early to be making calls like that. What if it starts back up again?”

“You think this is just a grace period?”

“Is there really a way to know?”

“Fair point.”

“Honestly, go ahead. Open Heaven.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Even if we’re just in a grace period, we might as well get the absolute most out of it, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re right; you’re right.”

“The Winchesters recently came back from Oklahoma after taking a break from all of this to take a normal, everyday hunt. And they seem _rested_ , Rachael. Revitalized. It’s incredible. If we’re getting a grace period, I’m using it to get that for myself. You should too.”

Farrah was telling the complete truth. She and the rest of the people in the bunker had been hanging out and taking time to themselves. They’d sit around the bunker and talk or they’d go digging for cases or they’d give Adam, who’d started to come around on them all since the Oklahoma trip, some training.

Things were good. Really good. There was a certain euphoria to normalcy that they wanted to preserve – that’s why they hadn’t summoned a crossroads demon yet.

Elizabeth, in particular, was really excited about the arrival of winter. It was always her favorite time of the year; the chill against her vessel’s skin exhilarated her.


	19. It's Delusions of Immortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nineteen's title is a Lie to Me quote.

The Winchester collective returned to the bunker after yet another hunt, this time out in Colorado. It had been doing them all a lot of good to only have small problems to worry about rather than focusing on saving the world. Again.

“Admit it, Farrah,” Sam teased as they all entered the library together. “You had a good time out there.”

She sighed, though smiling. “ _Maybe_ it’s not the worst thing.”

“Come _on_ ,” Dean scoffed, taking a seat at the table. “You’re telling us you didn’t enjoy smiting all those djinn?”

“It was pretty badass, wasn’t it?” she asked with a playful laugh. “Alright, fine, you win. I’ll admit that hunting can be fun. Even if it’s… below my usual paygrade.”

“The Queen has spoken,” Adam said, mimicking her voice. “Calls for a drink,” he added, heading to the kitchen to grab everyone a round of beers.

“You’re not funny, Adam,” Farrah called after him.

When he returned, he had expected jovial conversation – that was the usual. They’d all return from a hunt and gather in the library to drink and make merry. This time, however, was different. Still riding high, he came back shouting, “We’re running low on alcohol. Seems illegal to me, so we should probably get—”

The silence as well as the group staring him down cut him off. “Adam,” greeted Acacia, who’d just appeared in the library.

He had his mouth open as he tried to come up with a response. Slowly, he walked over to the table and set the drinks down. “Guess we need another beer,” he said when he finally spoke. He turned to leave, but Acacia stopped him.

“You don’t. I’m not here on personal business. Have a seat.”

He rolled his eyes, but he obliged. Once everyone had settled, Dean looked up to Acacia and, rather impatiently, asked, “What do you want?”

“It’s not really what _I_ want, Dean. It’s Lucifer.”

“Is this about us not summoning a demon? Because we got the message, but, honestly, it’s a weird request.”

“We were going to do it eventually,” Sam added.

“That doesn’t really work,” Acacia replied coldly. “Hell’s on a bit of a tight schedule at the moment.”

“Oh, really? What’s so important then?”

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, gesturing to a vacant chair.

“Have at it.”

She took the seat, her posture straight and her expression calm but frustrated. “We need to have a long overdue chat about Hell.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means? Did you forget there are dimensions falling apart as we speak? You think that doesn’t affect us?”

“We know it affects Heaven,” Farrah replied. “We could have assumed as much.”

“Oh, I see. Nice of you all to ask how we’re doing then.”

“It didn’t… seem necessary,” Dean scoffed. “Michael just showed up when he had a problem. Lucifer never said shit.”

“Right,” Acacia affirmed. “And if anyone had bothered to reach out, you’d know that he doesn’t think it’s safe for him to leave Hell at the moment.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, how about that? You’re not the only ones affected by this chaos. The world doesn’t revolve around you all the time.”

“Alright, you’re here, so talk to us. What’s wrong?”

“What’s _wrong_ is that angel populations aren’t supposed to increase, damn it. They’re supposed to get smaller and smaller over time until the world descends into complete demonic chaos. Such is life. But now they’re _skyrocketing_ , and it’s really fucking us over down there.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

“Shut up. The universe is out of balance.”

“So what do you expect us to do?”

“I don’t _know_. It’s getting pretty bad down there, though. Coming and going from Hell is nearly impossible. It took Lucifer, me, Bela, and about twelve other demons all working together to get me topside.”

“That’s why he asked us to summon someone?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, actually. It is. Not that we’d definitely have known if you tried given that witchcraft is failing since Hell’s getting weaker.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Most witches get their power through us. If we don’t have it, they certainly don’t.”

“So, what? Hell’s going to collapse now?”

“That’s why Lucifer won’t leave. He’s celestial, so he’s getting stronger with Heaven. He’s convinced he’s the only thing keeping the place afloat.”

“Perfect.”

“We’re not really sure what happens if things get worse from here, by the way. He sent me up to see if Jack could be of any use to us for the time being.”

“No way,” Jack protested, his brows furrowed.

“Oh, come on. It’s not forever. God only knows what happens if Hell collapses. Shit, it might release every demon and every damned soul down there back to Earth, and then you’d have two Apocalypses to deal with. Would you rather that?”

“So you’re here to just… take Jack to Hell?” asked Mary. “What would he even be doing down there?”

“Honestly, no idea. We just need him around to see if he can give us a power boost until things improve. It’s completely nonfunctional down there right now. If it takes an archangel and about fourteen demons just to get me up here, how much effort do you think it takes to get a crossroads demon _and_ their hellhound topside? Or, better yet, what do you think we need to do to get a human soul to Hell? It’s unsustainable.”

“Everything’s unsustainable right now,” Elizabeth interjected.

“We’re working on something,” Farrah assured.

“You’re working on something,” Acacia scoffed. “Enlighten me. What’s this grand plan you’ve worked up?”

“Well, nothing’s guaranteed, but if it works, we might all be able to escape.”

“When were you going to mention this?” asked Dean.

“Rachael told me about it when you lot were in Oklahoma. It hadn’t come up yet.”

“Who’s Rachael?” asked Acacia, distrusting.

“She’s an angel. I go way back with her.”

“Great. So this isn’t _your_ plan; it’s Heaven’s.”

“Technically, yes. But if it means anything, it’s not Michael’s. It’s courtesy of the alternate timeline.”

“Heaven is Heaven.”

“Right. Well, either way, Rachael and Bartholomew pressed Metatron—”

“Metatron?” Sam interrupted, chuckling a little.

“Yes, Sam. He _was_ the scribe. He _does_ have some knowledge.”

“What did he say?” asked Acacia, growing more impatient.

“Apparently Father built an escape hatch should someone do something bad enough to completely take out a dimension.”

“An escape hatch?”

“Yeah. Other dimensions we can flee to if it came to it. They’re uninhabited. The only point of them is for dire situations.”

“So your scribe wants us all to, what? Do _more_ dimensional travelling? Isn’t that what got us all into this mess to begin with?”

“It’s something of a work in progress.”

“And that means?”

“Rachael said that there’s a bit of uncertainty because no one’s really sure to what extent this dimension and their dimension are being affected. If it’s all limited to the voids and our problems only stem from the side effects of angels being resurrected, then escaping to the safety dimensions should work. The fact that Heavens’ radio frequencies appear to be levelling out with one another is blurring the line a little. It could mean Heaven is just strong enough that we’re somehow getting in tune with each other cross-dimensionally or it could mean whatever’s happening in the empty is also… you know, happening here.”

“You were going to tell us this when?” Dean asked, rather heated.

“I was sort of hoping to ride out this lull in activity before I dropped that on everyone. That, by the way, is also something of a mystery, so don’t bother asking.”

“It’s possible two different Heavens are merging – like the voids are – and you decided Hell didn’t need to know that?” Acacia questioned, trying to remain collected but only really making herself sound tense.

“It wasn’t that I actively thought you didn’t need to know. I just never considered it at all, to be frank.”

“Whatever,” Acacia sighed. “This is all well above my level anyway. I was just sent here to get information out of you and let you know how royally you messed up Hell.”

“So that’s it? You’re just leaving then?”

She shrugged. “If you’ll be kind enough to let us borrow your Nephilim for a little while, then yes. That’s it.”

“You all have _nothing_ to contribute?”

“So _now_ you give a damn what we have to say? Do you even know what it would take to get everyone to a ‘safety dimension’?”

“I told you it was a work in progress.”

“And I’m sure we in Hell would love to lend a hand, but we’re a bit occupied trying not to implode.”

Farrah was about to reply, but the bunker was shaken to its foundations as thunder, louder than anyone had ever heard, roared outside. A few seconds later, the power shut off.

“That can’t be good,” Dean commented.

“Really?” asked Acacia. “What was your first clue?”

Farrah stood up, looking around them as the rather haunting, red emergency lighting kicked in. She put a hand up to stop the rest of the group from talking. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Dean asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly,” she replied. “Thunder that bad, and it’s not raining? Or windy? It’s just… dead?” She looked back to the group. “I think the grace period might be over.”


	20. How Much Worse Do You Want This to Get?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specifically, I got chapter twenty's title from Orange is the New Black. Realistically, I probably could have gotten it or something like it from a lot of places.

Deciding to brave whatever was going on outside, Farrah, Castiel, and Elizabeth banded together and approached the door. They looked back at the Winchesters, Adam, Jack, and Acacia before bracing themselves. Being closest, Castiel was the one who opened the door.

All three were sent flying back into the bunker, landing several feet apart from each other. They rose to their feet slowly but relatively in sync. Farrah, looking between everyone, was breathing heavily as she said, “Something might be wrong.”

“How can you tell?” mocked Castiel, a bit hostile. He brushed himself off, and, along with Farrah and Elizabeth, rejoined the rest of the group. “Am I crazy, or was that celestial energy?” he asked, looking to Farrah and Elizabeth,

“I think you’re right,” Elizabeth agreed. “It was definitely a celestial type force.”

“This is because of _Heaven_?” asked Sam, his voice panicked though he was doing his best to sound calm.

“It might be,” Cas replied, stiff.

“You wouldn’t know the feeling, Sam, but I’ll be damned if that wasn’t the same force that an angel-banishing sigil would use to send us to Heaven,” Farrah informed.

“But it came from Heaven?” Sam breathed, sounding even more confused and panicked now despite his continued effort to downplay it.

She nodded. “It sure seemed like it.”

“What the hell, then?” Dean said, looking between each of the angels.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“We need to close that door,” Castiel said quickly, noticing that there was a calm outside that gave them the opportunity to get close to the door again. In the blink of an eye, he was there, which startled him. He suppressed his shock long enough to force the door shut before turning to face everyone, looking himself over. Slowly, again, he returned to the group, shaken. “Did I just _fly_ over there?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Elizabeth answered, her eyes wide as she, too, looked him up and down. “How did you manage _that_?”

“I just… did it. Like it was instinct.”

“Let’s see those wings, Castiel,” Farrah prompted. “I have a feeling something… insane might have happened.”

He nodded and displayed his now fully feathered wings across the walls. Pulling them back in, he stared at the rest of the group in stunned silence.

“I’d like to say this is a good thing,” Farrah said with a nervous chuckle.

More thunder roared outside; again, it was solitary.

“I doubt it,” Castiel breathed, still gazing at his hands in disbelief.

“So what? You can _fly_ again?” asked Elizabeth, amazed. “How’s that even possible? Your—” She cut herself off to collect her thoughts. “Castiel, your wings are back together. What the hell is going on here?”

“How should I know?” he replied. He crossed his arms and looked her over. “What about yours, Elizabeth?”

She had wide eyes as she shrugged in response. “I don’t _feel_ any different,” she said, her voice strained.

“Neither did I,” he scoffed. “Try it.”

She nodded quickly and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. “I don’t even remember h—” In a heartbeat, she was on the opposite end of the room. She looked at herself then up to Castiel. “Holy shit.”

“What in God’s name is going on?” Farrah asked with incredulity.

“Heaven _was_ getting stronger,” Sam pointed out.

“So now it’s just strong enough to repair fallen angels’ wings?” she said, laughing nervously as she considered the possibility. “Is that even possible?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No,” she admitted.

More thunder sounded outside, although this time it was accompanied by something of an earthquake.

“Shit,” Acacia said, coming to a realization. “Hell.”

“What about it?” asked Dean.

“I told you it’s so weak because Heaven’s been getting too powerful. If they’re just mending destroyed wings now, literally God only knows what that means for Hell. There might not even be anything for me to go back to.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said slowly, trying to get himself to her thought process. “Are you implying that earthquake was Hell imploding?”

“I’m saying I don’t know _what_ it was,” she scoffed. “But it’s logical, you know? Hypothetically, say one moment Heaven gets stronger, so there’s some strange, celestial thunder outside and now your wings are back. Congratulations, by the way. But then afterwards, Hell feels the pressure and it just… collapses, causing an earthquake.”

“This is conjecture,” he said back, trying to remain level-headed.

“Good conjecture.”

“Can you get back there?”

“Do I _want_ to go back there? What if I’m the only damn demon alive or something purely because I’m the only one not in Hell? Or maybe I go down there, but I can’t get back up. It’s not like I’ll be able to tell you all that, so how would you know?”

“Take me,” Jack offered.

“Take _you_? The point of taking you was to try to stabilize the place. It seems a bit late for that, doesn’t it?”

“But I _am_ celestial, so I could get you back here. Probably.”

“Any of us could maybe get her back here, Jack,” Castiel countered. He looked to Acacia. “Take your pick.”

“Are you all seriously going to make me go back to Hell right now?” Acacia scoffed. “How insane do you think I am?”

“What are we _supposed_ to do?”

“I don’t know! Wait it out, maybe?” There was more thunder outside. “Whatever this storm is, it hasn’t even let up yet.”

“Fine, you’re right. We’ll wait this out.”

“We’ll wait this out?” Farrah repeated, looking with astonishment between Castiel and Acacia. “Who says there’s any ‘waiting this out’?”

“Why do _I_ need to go to Hell anyway?” asked Acacia.

“Excuse me?” Dean scoffed. “Hell’s your thing.”

“Assuming Hell still is a thing.”

“Why wouldn’t you need to go?” Farrah laughed.

“If a celestial is just going to go regardless, then what’s the need? I’ll just be… extra.”

“Acacia, if anyone goes to Hell, you’re going to go with them. You’d be the only one who knew if anything had changed.”

“Fine, fine,” Acacia conceded.

There was more thunder outside, though the earthquakes had subsided and the thunder itself was growing less intimidating.

“Alright, so maybe we _can_ wait this out,” Farrah admitted, taking a seat. She looked at the beers Adam had brought up earlier. “Really wishing those worked for me right about now.”

Acacia cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s do this,” she said, bracing herself. “Who’s dumb enough to come with me?”

“ _I_ am going,” Jack insisted. “All of this was my fault to begin with.”

“Jack—” Castiel started.

“No,” Jack said shortly. “I am going. End of discussion.”

Castiel shook his head disapprovingly, but he took a seat next to Farrah, resigned.

“Alright, kid,” Acacia said, walking over to stand next to him. “Let’s see if there’s anything left down there.”

He nodded, and they were both gone immediately. By this point, the thunder had stopped, though they were starting to hear something outside that sounded like hail. Very absurdly sizeable, powerful hail, but hail nonetheless.

Everyone who was still standing took their seats back. Adam, both to lighten the mood and to handle his rising stress, took his beer and finished it off, tilting his head back dramatically. He slammed it down on the table, laughing anxiously as he looked everyone over. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed. “What the _hell_?”

“There’s no way any of that was just some freak weather thing, right?” Farrah floated, though insincere.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say no,” Dean jeered.

“What’s the plan if they can’t get out of Hell?”

“No idea,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Glad we’ve thought everything through with our usual attention to detail.”

To their surprise, Michael appeared in their doorway, looking down at them from the top of the stairs with strong disapproval. He didn’t speak, however; he simply stood at the railing and stared down at them like an angry parent.

“Hey,” Dean called. “You gonna join us, or are you just gonna stand there?”

Michael inclined his chin and sighed, making his way over to them. “Heaven’s… been busy,” he said calmly.

“We noticed,” Castiel replied. “Our wings are back. Like nothing ever happened.”

“Yeah, there’s a good reason for that. We’re _strong_ now.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about it.”

Michael shook his head. “How perceptive,” he snarled, approaching the table even more. “I’d like to say we’re grateful, but the circumstances are… concerning.”

“What does that mean?” asked Farrah.

“You’ll never believe who turned up in Heaven. _My_ Heaven,” Michael said. He snapped his fingers and standing before the group was Bartholomew, fresh from the alternate timeline.

Farrah, being the only one who actually recognized him, looked between Bartholomew and Michael with complete fear and astonishment as she slowly got to her feet. “I’m afraid to ask,” she said, breathy.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked, directing his question to Farrah.

“He’s—” Farrah started, unable to take her eyes off Bartholomew.

Bartholomew himself took over for her, extending a hand to the younger Winchester. “Bartholomew,” he introduced.

“He’s from _her_ timeline,” Michael said sternly as Bartholomew shook Sam’s hand. “Do you see why this is a bad thing?”

“So that storm – that was _you_?” asked Elizabeth.

“It was something of a team effort, really,” Bartholomew replied. “Not an intentional one, but here we are anyway.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We have a, uh… unidimensional Heaven now. Both timelines. Two dimensions, one Heaven,” he explained.

“The Heavens are _merged_?” Farrah asked, only becoming less composed.

Bartholomew nodded. “Looks like.”

“You can see how this is a problem,” Michael added.

A second later, Acacia and Jack were returned from Hell. “Guys, we have a problem,” Acacia informed. She was about to continue before she caught sight of Michael and Bartholomew and got sidetracked. “What’s going on?”

“We’re paying the Winchesters a visit to let them know how badly they’ve damaged Heaven,” Michael said stiffly.

“Oh, good. Then let us add how badly they’ve _also_ damaged Hell,” Acacia said. She straightened her posture. “The good news is, we’re stronger now than we were five minutes ago. The bad news is it’s because we’ve apparently doubled in size.”

“Wonderful. Then we’re all on the same page.”

“Yes,” she affirmed. Realizing what she’d just agreed to, she furrowed her brow and looked up to Michael. “Wait, what?”

“What are the odds things improve from here?” Farrah asked, hesitant.

“I wouldn’t say they’re great,” Dean scoffed.


	21. The Noose is Tightening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got chapter twenty-one's title from Dexter, but like last time I probably could have gotten it elsewhere since it's pretty generic.

The world was calm now, despite everything that had just happened. Everyone was still gathered, awestricken, in the library of the bunker. Adam had gotten more beers in part to be polite and in part to give himself an excuse to leave the room for a bit. Most of them were still sitting, however Michael and Bartholomew remained standing, looking over everyone else sat around the table.

They’d all been silent for a few minutes. There was a lot to process.

It didn’t seem like anything else was going to be thrown at them, so eventually they all let themselves drop their guard a little. Michael eventually left to go to Hell and finally have a talk with his brother about everything; he felt that was in order. Bartholomew stayed in the bunker and called down Rachael from Heaven so they could catch up with Farrah as it had been so long since they’d actually seen one another.

“Believe us or don’t believe us, Farrah, but things were going _great_ over there,” Rachael insisted. “Bartholomew got everything back on track. Another century or so, and it might have been like the Apocalypse never happened.”

“I can’t _believe_ that after everything that happened all it took was putting Naomi’s protégé in charge,” Farrah teased. “Seriously. Of all people.”

“I didn’t intend for it to happen,” Bartholomew replied, humbling himself. “It… just did. And it helped that, in light of all the commotion, everyone was very determined to work with me to put things back in line.”

“What happens now, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Can you even go back if the Heavens are merged? How does that work?”

“Yeah, we can go back,” Rachael affirmed. “You can access either Earth from Heaven now. We share that. And I guess we also share Hell now, too. It’s weird for the angels, but everyone will adjust. I hope at least.”

“Interesting,” Farrah noted. “Really goddamn strange. But interesting.”

“You know, if you missed us that badly, I don’t think you needed to nearly collapse the multiverse to come home.”

Farrah smiled, shaking her head. “I disagree. I needed the theatrics.”

“You always did,” Rachael teased, nudging Farrah on the shoulder. She looked around at the rest of the group. “So are you going to introduce your friends? You know I love meeting new people,” she prompted, already getting up to shake hands.

“Everyone knows that, Rachael,” Farrah taunted back. She, too, stood up, gesturing to each person and telling Rachael their names. “These are the people I died for,” she added at the end. “And then they destroyed a delicate interdimensional balance to bring me back. Normal friendship kind of things.”

Rachael was beaming. “It’s so nice to actually meet in person,” she said to the group. “I heard everything when you were, you know, overthrowing our leaders, but I was being kept too occupied elsewhere to say hello. You know, Farrah and I were in a garrison together for eons. We got in our fair share of trouble together too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean asked. “Anything this bad?”

Rachael laughed. “Not even close,” she replied.

“Not for lack of trying,” Farrah played. “Between me and her, it was almost impossible for Heaven to quiet us down and train us properly.”

“Heaven takes everything too seriously.”

“Always has. That’s its trademark.”

“It’s counterintuitive if you ask me. If I were human, some tight, rigid enterprise wouldn’t be my idea of paradise.”

“Lucky for them, they don’t have to deal with the behind-the-scenes part,” Farrah laughed. She looked the Winchesters over. “Well, usually.”

“Yeah, congrats. I think there are probably angels out there who have had less sway in Heaven than the two of you,” Rachael said, also looking between the Winchesters.

“What an honor,” Dean replied sarcastically.

“I guess if this void drama had to sort itself out somehow, this isn’t the _worst_ way it could have done it,” Bartholomew commented, shifting the tone of the conversation slightly. “Metatron’s picture was much bleaker.”

“Such is Metatron,” Farrah scoffed. She turned back to the Winchesters, Castiel, Adam, Jack, and Elizabeth. “I didn’t want to panic everyone, so I kept my mouth shut. But Metatron was damn sure we’d have to escape to those safety dimensions I talked about earlier. To the point he was convinced _that_ might not even work and we’d all just be… removed from existence.”

“Sounds just as charming as our Metatron was,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“He never was very fun,” Rachael confirmed, crossing her arms. “That man can make a problem out of _anything_.”

“Granted, this was actually a problem,” Farrah conceded.

“Sure, but he could have at least _tried_ to be optimistic.”

“I genuinely do not think he has it in him.”

Rachael was about to object, but she paused for a bit. Nodding, she admitted, “Alright, yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Pretty standard as far as angels go,” Bartholomew interjected.

“Yeah, but I think something about knowing the actual word of God made him more paranoid than the rest of us,” Farrah countered. “Or maybe I just thought that because I never got on with him. Could go either way.”

“You don’t get on with anyone.”

“That is decidedly untrue,” Farrah laughed. “Look at all these people I _clearly_ get on with,” she said, gesturing at the table.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Castiel teased.

“Bite me, Castiel,” Farrah growled, though playful.

“ _I_ get on well with her,” Rachael said, putting a hand on Farrah’s shoulder and raising her chin to a proud incline.

“Thank you,” Farrah said triumphantly. “Nice to know at least one person at this table is capable of not being a prick.”

“Your hypocrisy knows no bounds,” Elizabeth teased.

Farrah laughed, but the group’s festivities were ended rather abruptly as the hail sound they had heard earlier picked up. “That’s odd,” Farrah noted.

“It’s the weather,” Mary said.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m a little wary of freak weather patterns right now.”

“I guess that storming from Heaven stirred up some actual bad weather,” Sam suggested with a casual shrug.

“Maybe,” she conceded. She cleared her throat and sat up taller. “You’re right, you’re right,” she insisted, straightening her clothes. “It’s probably nothing.”

The silence had returned for a moment before Adam broke it to offer to go get everyone another drink. Again. When no one answered, he nodded and said, “Yeah, never mind.” After a few seconds, he shook his head. “No. No, I’m getting another round.” He left promptly at that.

While he was digging through the fridge to find enough drinks for everyone, yet another, very brief earthquake hit the bunker; he chalked it up to aftershocks. That happened for regular earthquakes, so why not supernatural ones?

He was still facing the fridge when he felt what he could only described as a vacuum behind him. It caught him off-guard, and he very slowly placed the beers he had back in the fridge before turning around to see what was behind him.

What he saw took his breath away.

He immediately ran up to the library, his eyes wide.

“Where’s that other round, Adam?” asked Dean. Noticing his half-brother’s expression, he arched an eyebrow and said, “Adam? What’s wrong?”

“You’re gonna want to see this,” Adam replied stiffly, nodding in the direction of the kitchen and looking around at the others.

“That can’t be good,” Farrah commented as everyone got to their feet and headed in Adam’s direction.

As they neared him, Adam turned to lead the group toward the kitchen, saying, “Does someone want to tell me what the hell this is?” when they arrived.

“Shit,” breathed Sam and Dean together.

Adam arched his brows expectantly. “You’re making me really nervous right now, so if someone wants to tell me what’s going on—”

“That’s a rift, Adam,” Castiel informed.

Adam quickly turned his head to face Castiel upon hearing the words. “That’s a _what_?” he asked. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s the door to Farrah’s dimension,” Castiel elaborated.

“Who would open _that_? After all this madness?”

“I don’t think anyone did,” Farrah said. As Adam had stepped to the side of the door to allow the others to enter the room instead, she was the furthest into the kitchen, closest to the rift. Noticing something off, she hurriedly turned and gestured for everyone to leave. “We need to get out of here now,” she warned.

They listened but questioningly. Once they were back up in the library, they paused as Dean demanded, “Tell us what just happened.”

“Dean, I wish I knew.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his panic rising again.

“It’s… widening,” she said.

“It’s _widening_?”

She nodded. “Looks like it,” she breathed. Another smaller earthquake hit them, and she turned to face the hallway that lead to the kitchen. Noticing the characteristic yellow hue of the light the rift gave off shining though the hallway, she said, under her breath, “Oh, no.”

“Anyone got any bright ideas?” asked Elizabeth, half-serious.

“Sorry,” Farrah replied. “I’m coming up a little blank on this one.”

“I don’t think we can do anything but ride it out,” Acacia suspected.

“ _Ride it out_?”

“Do you have a better plan? What are we supposed to do – shut a rift we never opened? Good luck with that one.”

The light was spreading further and further, approaching them as the rift continued to widen. Very soon, its edge would cross the library, where they all still stood.

“Should we try to outrun it?” suggested Jack.

“We can try,” Dean replied.

Almost the second after he said the words, they were already overcome by the rift’s edge as it surged through the rest of the bunker.


	22. No Rest for the Soulless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter twenty-two's title is a Lucifer quote.
> 
> Also, it's Wednesday right now. Not that it's that important, but I'm posting today because it's the penultimate chapter, and if I put it up now then the final one will be posted on my last day of finals. I just like that timing better.

After the light overtook them, they were briefly blinded and there was a faint ringing sound, but it all subsided. Otherwise, they were untouched, and it appeared the rift had gone; nothing had changed – except that Castiel~ showed up in the bunker after the effect wore off, demanding to know what was happening. He hadn’t been in Heaven or Hell to know that any other merging had happened beyond the voids, so he was confused to put it mildly.

“Gabriel goes to talk with his brother, and the next thing I know there’s the most _insane_ storm outside,” he explained. “And then the ground starts shaking, and there’s hail, and a _rift_ just opens out of thin air. The damn thing completely engulfs the place. Now I’m here because I assume you people are the ones with an explanation for all this.”

“Not all of it,” Farrah countered.

“The storm was our Heaven and your Heaven merging,” Sam explained. “The earthquake was the same thing in Hell. Jury’s out on the rift.”

“Well, that’s more than I had,” Castiel~ scoffed. He paused, then looked up directly to Sam. “They _merged_?”

“Apparently.”

“Not apparently,” Acacia corrected, tense. “Definitely. They merged. If you’d seen Hell, you’d know.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s like they just… stitched together. I said earlier that it doubled in size because Hell literally doubled in size. Twice the demons, twice the souls, twice the square footage. I don’t know what it looked like when it happened, obviously, but that’s the sum of it now.”

“I guess it’s similar in Heaven then,” Cas said, crossing his arms.

“So no guesses at all as to what happened here then?” his double asked. “Nothing? Not even hypothetically?”

“Well, it _just_ happened, so it’s not like we’ve had all the time in the world to come up with anything.”

“You’re filled in as much as anyone else,” Farrah pointed out. “Why don’t _you_ hazard a guess, Cassie~?”

He shrugged and looked around at their surroundings. “Nothing appears to be happening now, though.”

“Then maybe it’s all over,” Mary suggested. “That was it.”

“If only things were ever that simple.”

“So you _do_ think something else might have happened. Or might happen,” Farrah prodded, inclining her chin.

“No,” Castiel~ protested. He sighed before adding, “Yes. Maybe. I can’t say for sure. It’s a bit… much.”

Farrah gestured to the table, and they all resumed their seats again. “Spit it out,” she said once everyone was situated.

He cleared his throat and looked around at the group. Giving a resigned shake of his head, Castiel~ suggested, “Maybe what happened in Heaven and in Hell also happened here.” He leaned back in his chair.

No one responded initially. They each looked at each other expectantly, hoping someone else would speak first. Dean rolled his eyes and broke the silence, though all he contributed was, “Excuse me?”

Castiel~ shrugged. “Anyone got a better idea?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But there’s gotta be _something_ better than that.”

“Why?” Castiel~ scoffed. “Heaven and Hell merged. I’ll bet Purgatory did too. What – you think Earth should be immune or something?”

“Why is everything so… calm now then?”

“It’s calm in Hell,” Acacia informed. “I mean, outside the initial panic. Everyone kind of came to terms with it pretty quickly, and now it’s business as usual. Just a bit busier.” She laughed lightly and nodded in Castiel’s~ direction. “I think he’s onto something.”

“As per usual,” Castiel~ gloated.

“We just, what? Downsized the multiverse?” Farrah asked anxiously. “Is that what we’re going with?”

“Again, if anyone has a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“I bet _Father_ would know,” she sighed, irritated. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if He could stop being a bastard long enough to explain what’s going on?”

“We’ve been saying that this whole time,” Elizabeth chuckled. “He clearly either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.”

“He’s omniscient.”

“Fine, so then He just doesn’t care. What a revelation.”

Farrah laughed before adding, “I know, I know. We should be used to that by now, I suppose. Which, you know, I _am_ , but that doesn’t excuse it.”

“You know, there’s one thing we could do to test our hypothesis,” Cas said somewhat distantly as he came up with his idea.

“And that is?”

“We could get Jack to try and open the rift up again and see what happens.”

“Seems a bit risky, wouldn’t you say? The interdimensional doors are what got us in this mess in the first place.”

“We merged at least three different afterlives that we know of,” Castiel countered. “What more damage could we possibly do?”

“Fair point,” Farrah agreed. She shrugged. “I’m in.”

They decided to test it outside; they weren’t exactly sure that the wide open area would make a difference, but they figured that at least if something went wrong they could take refuge in the bunker and maybe _feel_ like they were achieving something.

It was still hailing, but otherwise there was nothing out of the ordinary. The thunder had stopped, and both the earthquake itself and the aftershocks appeared to be over. It was much darker than they’d expected given the time of day, but they all tacitly agreed that was a result of the weather – the hail descended from thick, black clouds that covered the entirety of the sky. It was small and intermittent enough that they were comfortable (as possible as such a thing was) being outside for however long it took Jack to get a rift open.

Usually, something like that would take him seconds – a minute at the most. He’d gotten very good at it by then. This time, however, the others stood behind him for several minutes as he tried everything in his power to do it.

“You want a rift to Farrah’s timeline, correct?” Jack asked them, noticing their confusion as he turned to face them.

“Ideally,” Elizabeth confirmed.

Jack shook his head. “I do not believe I can do that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Acacia.

He shrugged. “It feels as if it is… unavailable. Like it would not even be an option. I can open a door to Hell,” he said, snapping his fingers and manifesting behind him a rift that glowed red. “I can open a door to Heaven,” he added, doing the same, though this rift was a faint silver color. “I can even open one to Purgatory.” The rift this time was an emerald green.

“Are the afterlives separate dimensions?” Castiel~ questioned. “Does opening those doors count?”

Jack shrugged again. “I cannot say for sure,” he admitted. “But before it took me about the same amount of effort to get a rift open to your dimension.”

“So then what the hell?”

“I do have another idea,” Jack said. He straightened his posture and snapped the three rifts closed. “I will try the backup dimensions.”

Castiel~ arched an eyebrow. “You’ll try the what?”

“It’s a long story,” Rachael said. She looked back up to Jack. “Are you sure? Would you even know how to do that?”

“I could not tell you,” Jack said. He was already deeply focused, trying to concentrate his energy the proper way.

Instinctually, the others all took a few more steps back almost in sync.

After a few minutes, Jack’s head, which he held low as his focus intensified, shot up. His eyes glowed yellow, and, before their eyes, a rift drew itself into space. This one was a dull blue-green – a color none of them had ever seen a rift be.

He was beaming, turning back to face the group. “I think I did it,” he said proudly. “That should be the backup.”

“Okay, I’m still not caught up on what this ‘backup’ is supposed to be, but if you can do that, shouldn’t you be able to open the door to ours?” Castiel~ asked.

Jack sighed, snapping his fingers to close the door. “Yes,” he confirmed.

“Maybe Castiel~ was right,” Farrah conceded, clearly reluctant to give him credit. “Maybe our timeline doesn’t exist anymore. We’re all one dimension now.”

“There’s one thing no one’s considered yet,” Bartholomew interjected. He took a deep breath as if to brace himself before saying, “What about the empty?”

“What about it?”

“Is there any possible way for us to know what’s become of it?”

“Good question. Let me fetch my angel blade, and I’ll kill Castiel~ right now.”

“How was that called for?” Castiel~ objected. “I have been _nothing_ but helpful. At least since I came back.”

“Debatable.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t do you any good. It’s not like you could ask me.”

“True, but it’d be cathartic.”

“What if I tried opening a rift there?” Jack offered.

“To the empty?” Sam said in disbelief. “After all this?”

“How else are we supposed to know if everything has sorted itself out?”

“He’s right,” Castiel~ agreed.

“This is a monumentally bad idea,” Farrah opposed, shaking her head. “What if it just throws everything back out of alignment?”

“What is there to throw off? Everything’s already merged anyway.”

After deliberation, they decided it wasn’t a risk they could justify. Not that it would have mattered. The second void – the unpopulated one – was still nearing them. That was the reason the sky was so dark, and it continued to get darker yet as the void got closer and closer. Additionally, the hail picked up progressively, eventually driving them all into the bunker.

They’d assumed that things were settled now as they split off to go process recent events independently of one another. An hour or so after they’d been outside, Sam, Dean, and Mary, who were all in the library together, noticed another rift start to open up. It had the glow of angelic grace – like the rift to the empty always had.

“That can’t be good,” Dean said.

Sam was already off to get the others. The rift was opening slowly, so when he returned with Farrah, Elizabeth, Jack, Adam, and Castiel (the others had all left the bunker entirely), it was still only halfway to the size of a normal rift.

“What the hell is that?” asked Elizabeth.

Jack stared at it in wide-eyed fear. “The door to the empty.”

It continued to open, and no one was doing anything to stop it simply because they were fully out of ideas. When the rift opened completely, it was like the entire world was sucked into a vacuum.


	23. Impressive, Isn't It, to Be a Part of Something So Grand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter twenty-three's title is a quote from The Umbrella Academy.

Dean’s eyes opened in what appeared to be his childhood home. Confused, he sat himself up and looked around at the room. It was his own from his youth but matured to suit his current taste. Pictures of him and his family decorated the walls, but they weren’t pictures he’d remembered taking. Hell, they couldn’t be. A few included him and Sam, fully grown, standing beside their parents and Castiel – an absolutely impossible scenario.

He slowly got to his feet and decided to explore. When he went down the hall to what should have been Sam’s nursery, he found that it, too, was like his room only this time it was customized to Sam’s liking. This didn’t help explain anything.

Eventually, he went downstairs and was met with his brother and his mother standing in the foyer. “What is going on?” he asked them.

“Dean?” said a voice he hadn’t heard in several years.

Dean froze, seeing his father in front of him. It was only then he’d realized what had happened. “Are we _dead_?” he asked.

John nodded, and the front door opened shortly thereafter. Standing in the doorway was Castiel, looking rather amazed.

“Cas,” Dean greeted.

Castiel gave everyone except John quick hugs before stepping back and standing with a professional posture. “Good news and bad news,” he said.

“Start with the bad,” Sam prompted.

“Alright. The bad news is you’re dead. This is Heaven. You all get to share one, but it does mean you died.”

“Great,” Dean said, more accepting of the situation than he expected to be. “What’s the good news?”

“Well, first there’s more bad news.”

“Of course there is.”

“It’s not just you that’s dead.”

“What?”

“Everyone is. Literally every human on Earth is now dead.”

“What happened?”

“We can’t quite explain everything, but when that rift opened it had something to do with our dimension and at least one void merging together.”

“That can happen?”

“It’s the best guess we have. In any case, Heaven, Hell, and presumably Purgatory were all safe; it just made Earth inhospitable. So everyone died.”

“Are you ever going to get to the good part?”

“The good news is we’ve already ended the world, so there’s no possible way to do it again. There’s no life down there. Angels and demons are either in Heaven, Hell, or still in the empty. Human souls are either in Heaven or Hell. But at least everyone’s still… in existence.”

“Bit of a downer for an upside, Cas.”

“Maybe. But it does mean all the people that were sent to Heaven now have eternity to live in their own unique paradise. Which they all earned.”

“We also damned a lot of people to Hell.”

“Yeah, but it’s a merit system. _That_ wasn’t changed.”

“What happened to everyone else then?”

“Well, Farrah and Elizabeth are both up here with me. We can stop by now and then, don’t worry. Acacia, if you care, went to Hell before the merge happened, so I assume she’s still there. I don’t have any idea whether being a crossroads demon is even an option anymore, but my guess would be it’s not since there’s no one alive to make a deal. She’s probably torturing souls or something. Demon things.”

“And Jack?”

“He’s fine too. His grace saved him like the rest of the angels. He spends a lot of time up here with me, but he does check in with Lucifer now and then. Something of a liaison, I guess. Michael and Lucifer still want to keep tabs on each other to make sure things keep running this smoothly, and Jack likes to be able to come and go.”

“So all in all a happy ending then?” Sam queried.

Castiel shrugged. “I guess so, yeah. Eventually it was going to get to this point anyway; life on Earth is finite. It just happened to end with you. With Jack, really, but who’s keeping score?”

“What do we do now?” asked Dean, looking around him.

“Whatever, Dean. This is your Heaven. Enjoy it. I can go get Farrah and Elizabeth to let them know you’ve all come around.”

“And Adam?”

“Adam should be around here somewhere. We did a little bit of maneuvering, so his mother’s now connects to your father’s. He’s probably on her end of it right now.”

“Can you get him too?”

“I’ll see. He might not have woken up yet. It takes a second.”

At that, he was off, and everyone had a proper reunion with John. It eventually lead to them all sitting outside together, Sam and Dean telling their father all the crazy things that had happened since he died.

Castiel returned, now accompanied by Farrah. “I thought Liz was coming too,” Dean said, noting her absence.

“She’ll be here soon,” Castiel assured. “She’s giving Adam the speech.”

“So I guess our assumption was a bit off, then,” Farrah suggested, laughing. “Have to admit, I didn’t expect it to go like that.”

“Yeah, well. Someone had to end the world, I guess,” Dean replied.

She shook her head. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

They all had a short conversation before Elizabeth turned up with Adam and Jack. “Sorry that took so long. I picked up another guest.”

“Hey,” Jack said. “Sorry I got you killed.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean insisted. “You’re not the first person to do that.”

“He is the last, though,” Sam added.

“I was alive for what, a few months? And now I’m dead again?” Adam scoffed. “What the hell is that about?”

“Such is life,” Elizabeth teased. “At least this time it’s not the Cage.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

After that, there wasn’t much else to say. Heaven and Hell went on operating effortlessly; no one was coming in or going out anymore other than Jack, and the distribution of souls balanced them out with each other. Neither was on the verge of collapse anymore.

Castiel’s guess on Acacia’s position had been generally correct. Crossroads demons didn’t do much that was different from normal demons outside upkeep on their hellhounds, which they still owned. Occasionally, the hellhounds would be used for torture.

Such was eternity from then on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since you're here, I assume you read this whole series, so thank you. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it was at the very least less garbage than the canon.

**Author's Note:**

> Love that the series finale being as universally despised as it is completely validates me doing this. Shout out to Andrew Dabb on that one. Good work, buddy. Nailed it.


End file.
